Page 103 of Her Dom's Secret Past

“Yes, along with the Deputy Commissioner, Inspector Clemson, and Sergeant Cooper, he was the TOU officer in charge when we went in to rescue you. They—the DC, Peter, and Clemson went over everything a few dozen times. They had Cooper’s report and mine and the recording Clemson made of your statement. By the time we finished, it was about two-thirty in the morning. Peter got a car to drive him and me back here for a few hours’ sleep and then we went to pick you up.”

“Tell me, does that mean you’re not in any trouble?”

“None. Mind you, it wasn’t appreciated that I went over heads to get reinstated. I got rapped over the knuckles and I had to sign a statement that it would never happen again, but apart from that, no problems.”

“I was panicking. I kept thinking you were in jail.”

“That wasn’t going to happen, sweetheart. They were legitimate kills.”

I lay back against the settee cushions, my mind kind of mixed-up, but at least I knew John wasn’t in trouble.

“You relax and I’ll make you some lunch. Did you have breakfast?”

“I think I did, I honestly can’t remember. I was so worried about what was happening with you.”

He stood up, kissed me softly, and went into the kitchen. I closed my eyes and I was pretty sure I nodded off. Next thing I knew, John woke me. He’d made a tomato and cheese omelet for me. I sat up and ate, finally letting it sink in that I was home and the worst of my ordeal was over. I wasn’t sure how I was going to cope with it all, but at least I had John beside me.

“The gang rang. I told them to leave it until tomorrow to come, gives you today at home. They were staying the weekend here so instead they’re coming for lunch. Charlie said he’d pick up meat for the barbecue. He was going to ring Becky and work out food. Dean Cooper wanted to call in to see how you were, and I told him to come tomorrow as well.”

“Dean Cooper?”

“The sergeant from the tactical unit.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I was glad we had today alone. I didn’t feel like facing anyone else. Once I’d finished eating and John had cleaned up, we sat together. I wondered what Peter Hamilton had to say, but I didn’t have long to wait. A half an hour later, there was a knock at the door. John showed him in and made tea all round, including a cup for the officer who’d driven Peter down. He was now settled on the deck with his. After a few generalities, Peter told his story.

“John has told me he has spoken with you about his previous occupation without going into details?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Then you know that the department arranged a funeral while he was in hospital, then we shipped him out here. The Director and I were concerned we’d found a mole in the department who had given information which led to John’s injuries. I wasn’t satisfied that he was the only one and took my concerns to the Director. We decided the only ones who would know John was alive would be the two of us. Between us, we handled the transfer of him out here.

“I let it be known that he’d left me his apartment. It was feasible because we were friends outside of the office. I arranged for his personal effects to be loaded into the container and sent it here, but it went via a convoluted route. To anyone who checked, it appeared that it was being donated to a charity working in Africa. Everything seemed okay.

“We bustled him out of the country once he was back on his feet in a fashion. I’d arranged the purchase of this house and his two-week stay in the villa. The Director pulled strings with the Police Commissioner here in New South Wales, which meant everything was handled between the two of us.”

“So how did I fit into it?”

“My mistake. I rang the villa after John had been there a week to make sure he was okay. I spoke with the owner who told me he’d made friends with you and gave me your name.”

“How could you get my name? I tried to get John’s number and last name from them and they refused.”

“I applied a little, shall we say, police leverage.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, naturally, I did a background check on you.”

“Naturally? Why the hell would you do that?”

John squeezed my hand and said rather angrily, “Was that truly necessary, Peter?”

Peter silenced him with a look. “Of course. Remember, I still had doubts that we’d caught the only mole. Then immediately you arrive in Australia, you fall into a relationship with a woman. Naturally, I’d be suspicious. I quickly discovered Anabelle here was exactly who she said she was. Anyway, I closed the file on John, saying he was deceased, but my notes on Anabelle were in it without mentioning anything except her name and address.”

John groaned. “And the mole read them and wondered why you were investigating a woman in Australia in relation to Gordon Jennings if Jennings was dead.”

“Exactly.”

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