chip, she tu rned her attention to the wet darkness outside. In the distance were several lights, low to the ground and definitely not moving. Farm house and barns. Nothing weird.
Rain continued to pound the roof as she worked her way through the chips and toasted sandwich. Giving a genteel burp, she wiped her hands with the wet wipes she pulled from the glove box and studied her surroundings.
All was quiet. It could be a long wait.
She fiddled with the police scanner, but all was silent. Not even the cops would be out on a night like this, not until the storm calmed down or something happened.
Nothing was happening.
Not wanting to risk flattening the battery, she turned off the key in the ignition and slid between the seats to go into the back. Opening the cupboard, she took out the portable radio and switched it on, tuning it into the local radio station which was currently playing light rock. Nice.
B ringing it back to the front, she set it on the dashboard and leaned back against the window, settling a little cushion behind her. The radio crackled.
And that was when something slammed into the side of the van.
Chapter 2
Opening his eyes, Nick was instantly awake. It was barely dawn, but he still checked his watch. Yep, five thirty. Time to get up.
Rolling out of the big, cosy bed, he sat and contemplated the room. It hadn’t changed since the last time he’d been here a year ago. Big, old fashioned bed made with fleecy sheets and piled with a couple of blankets and a thick quilt. The pillows were fat and snugly. The furniture was old, polished and cared for, the carpet faded but thick, and the wallpaper had little roses sprinkled across the walls. The curtains at the window were shut, adding to the cosy atmosphere.
Stepping into Harly and Alex’s home was like stepping back in the past. He liked it.
Standing, he padded across to the curtains and parted them, opening the window to both shiver and inhale the chill breeze. Beyond the veranda he could see in the gloom that the trees dripped, the grass was still wet, and puddles pooled further out in the yard. Birds were just starting to stir. Everything was wet and fresh.
Pulling on a pair of shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt, he laced up sneakers and crept out the door into the hallway.
Old Buffy, sleeping on a blanket next to the sofa in the lounge, lifted her ears when he passed her but didn’t get up. Obviously the morning was too early and cold for her. Nothing else moved in the house, not even the cats appearing, so he knew that Harly and Alex still slept, the three cats probably piled in the bed with them.
Smiling, he opened the door, shutting it carefully behind him. Taking deep breaths, he looked around. His breath came in cold puffs from his mouth and goosebumps shivered down his arms and legs. Jumping lightly down to the ground, he jogged in place for several minutes, stretched a couple of times, then proceeded to lope lazily down the bitumen driveway that Alex had had put in the last time he’d been home, and turn onto the roadway. Keeping to the side facing any on-coming cars, he lengthened his stride, falling easily into his morning run.
The silence of the morning was broken only by the sound of wildlife stirring, birds appearing, and several kangaroos bounding off at the sight of him.
Ah, Whicha, he really liked it. He’d stayed here with Alex and Harly several times, liking it as much now as he had then. It was more home to him than anywhere he’d ever been, and in the Army he’d travelled to a lot of places. But Whicha, with its quiet country charm, called to him.
Arms swinging in tandem to his stride, Nick breathed deeply and steadily.
He’d have liked to have come here a week ago, but mindful that Alex hadn’t seen Harly for six months, Nick had been considerate enough to leave them alone for a week. They had lost time to make up for, and having him around was