she’d been caught planning something criminal.
He smiled at her. ‘I’m free now. All yours, in fact.’
The skin over her cheek bones was scorching as every particle of heat concentrated in her face. If only it was enough to combust her on the spot.
The dark, narrow-eyed stare raked over her already sensitised skin. ‘You’re looking better than when I last saw you.’
The personal comment allowed her to pull herself together. ‘Really, Sergeant?’
‘Tom. No need to stand on ceremony around here, is there, Penny?’ He smiled warmly at his constable and Kayla’s thought processes stuttered to a halt.
He looked back at her. ‘Want to come this way?’
No. She swallowed and forced her jellied knees to move her forward. The tension in her gut returned with an iron fist, making her glad it had been hours since she’d eaten.
Her heart set up a tattoo of great thumping beats as she followed him along a short corridor. She worked to compose herself, using the techniques that had served her so well for years when dealing with the large threatening males in her life. The usual methods weren’t working.
‘Grab a chair.’ He moved behind the desk to open a filing cabinet and take out a pad.
She perched on the edge of the seat and concentrated on the items on his desk. It was all very tidy. Orderly piles of paper, a container of pens.
Long fingers appeared in her line of vision, selected one of the pens and clicked it ready for use.
‘Tell me in your own words what happened last Sunday night, Kayla. You were returning from Melbourne?’ His smooth, velvety voice invited her to respond.
‘Y-yes.’ She marshalled her thoughts and began to describe the accident.
He made notes as she spoke.
‘So you didn’t see the lights of the car coming down the side road towards you?’ His dark eyes lifted to her face.
The question brought her up short.
‘No. I was…um…distracted.’ On that fateful night, she’d spotted him. In her mind’s eye, she could remember the tall, still figure beside the police vehicle. She’d wondered what he was doing out there in the middle of the night. Heat crept up her neck and it was all she could do not to put her hand to her throat to try to hide the self-betrayal. ‘I had glanced in the side mirror. The—the right-hand one on the…’ She stopped. ‘Right side.’
She was giving too much information, too much detail. Making herself sound like an idiot. Worse, she was drawing his attention and surely making him wonder what she was hiding.
Just as well she’d never contemplated a life of crime. Giving one tiny statement under Sergeant Jamieson’s piercing eyes was turning her into a gibbering wreck.
‘And then what happened?’
‘I—I looked back and the other car was suddenly there, at my left-hand passenger door. I braked hard and swerved to the right side of the road. My car spun when I hit the gravel.’
He led her through several more questions, then she watched as he finished making his notes.
‘Okay, that seems straightforward. I’ll just get you to read through this and sign if you’re happy with what it says.’
‘Okay.’ She took the pages. The short, terse sentences in his powerful, energetic script seemed to leap off the paper at her. She blinked and forced herself to concentrate. ‘I just sign at the bottom?’
‘Yes. You can use my pen.’
The pen was still warm from his fingers. She leaned the paper on the edge of the desk to scrawl her signature then handed the papers back to him.
‘So that’s it?’
‘Pretty much.’ He looked at her. ‘How about a coffee?’
‘Coffee?’
‘Yes. I wouldn’t expect you to drink the station coffee if that’s what you’re worried about.’ He smiled but his eyes were dark, unreadable.
‘Oh, I’m sure it couldn’t be as bad as hospital coffee.’ She stopped, bit her lip. He’d think she wanted to stay for coffee in a minute. ‘Thank you, but, no. I need to get on the road. I’ve got a long drive.’
‘Going to Melbourne for the weekend?’
‘Yes.’ She gathered up her belongings and decided she’d get her car keys out when she got to her car.
His face was perfectly calm but there was an acute-ness about the way he looked at her that made her wonder what he was thinking. Perhaps all policemen cultivated that impression of predatory patience. Waiting to see what might be revealed if they waited long enough. ‘Visiting family?’
‘Yes. No. Sort of.’ Her fingers tightened on her bag.
He raised his eyebrows.
She opened her mouth then shut it. He couldn’t possibly be interested in knowing this was her best friend’s last weekend in Melbourne before she returned to the far-flung reaches of North West Australia.
His curiosity was a policeman’s ingrained habit and she was like Pavlov’s dog. A steady stare from an imposing male wearing dark blue epaulettes and it seemed she was still ready to rush into explanations. Her father had trained her well.
Growing up, she’d tried to tell herself it was a sign of his affection that had made him grill her and her sister. But she’d slowly realised it was an uncanny ability to sniff out the tiniest hint of trouble or rebellion.
A fantastic ability in a policeman.
Utterly crushing in a distant, regimented father.
In the end, she’d realised he’d been determined to crush any tendency his daughters might have harboured towards behaving like normal teenagers. Christopher Morgan had been a man with places to go, in line for promotions. No time for messy family dramas and misbehaviour. No taint of gossip would touch him through his family.
She suddenly realised she’d been sitting in the sergeant’s office for far too long, staring back at him. She shot out of the chair. ‘Well, I won’t let you keep me.’
‘Won’t you?’ He stood more slowly, his eyes hooded, a faint smile on his mouth.
She felt the heat rush into her cheeks when she realised what she’d said. ‘I mean, I won’t keep you.’
He inclined his head. ‘I’ll walk you out.’
‘There’s no need. I can find my own way. Thank you, Sergeant.’
‘Tom.’ His fingers fastened around her arm.
She looked at him blankly, her mind consumed by his touch on the tender skin of her inner elbow.
‘My name is Tom.’
‘Oh. Yes. Of course.’ She looked at him helplessly.
‘Say it, Kayla.’
She swallowed. The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine. Almost as though he was tasting the syllables, trying out the feel of it in his mouth. At the L-sound, she’d been able to see the tip of his tongue touch the edge of his top teeth.
‘Say it,’ he repeated when she remained silent.
‘Tom.’ Her throat had difficulty making the sound and it came out raw and husky. She’d worked so hard not to even think of him by his name, and now he’d made her say it. She felt something akin to despair. Now he was real, now he was a man, not a uniform.
He nodded. ‘That wasn’t so hard, was it?’
He opened his office door and ushered her across to the exit with that gentle but inexorable hold.