‘What?’ Fliss was horrified. ‘I’ve got patients waiting at the surgery. What if someone’s been shot and needs urgent treatment? I can’t stay hidden!’
‘Yes, you can, lass,’ Jack said firmly. ‘It’s getting dark out there. We have no idea what’s going on or where the idiot with the gun is. What use would you be to anyone if you go out there and get shot yourself?’
There were no streetlights in Morriston. When it got dark, it got absolutely dark. It might only be a few hundred metres to the surgery but it would be a long way to travel with the knowledge that any movement could attract the attention of someone with little regard for the law or the sanctity of human life. Even absolute darkness was probably not enough cover for someone with bright blonde hair like Fliss’s—especially when she was wearing a white shirt over her jeans.
‘I’ve got a cellar,’ Jack told her. ‘Damp little hole carved into the hill that’s been no use for storage so it’s empty. Won’t be that comfortable but it’ll be safe enough. You can come out and do your bit to help when the police arrive and you’ve got some protection.’
The notion of hiding was undeniably attractive. Fliss was good at hiding. It was why she had come to Morriston in the first place, wasn’t it? To hide from the painful reminders of what could have been if only things had been different.
Fliss had achieved the isolation she’d sought but how ironic was it that she was now in a situation in which she needed Angus more than she had ever needed anyone?
Or that the reason she needed him so badly was the very reason that had forced her to end the relationship? Angus knew what it was like to face danger like this. He had the training and skills to deal with it. To protect himself and others.
But he was hundreds of miles away in Christchurch. Would SERT—the specialist emergency response team—be activated in response to an armed offender callout in Morriston?
Probably. They got sent to any kind of hotspot that needed police and paramedic personnel.
Would Angus be on duty?
Fliss didn’t know. She had worked hard to try and stop thinking about him all the time. To stop imagining what he might be doing on a particular day or at a particular time of day or night. To stop wondering whether he had got over being furious to find he missed her as much as she missed him.
Success in her endeavours had been patchy. Fliss still thought about Angus far too often for her peace of mind, but she had forgotten his roster.
If he came, dressed in operational gear like his armed police team members, the sanctuary Fliss had found would be gone. Morriston, as much as Christchurch, would remind her of Angus. Of the direction his career as a paramedic had taken him. Of its call to put him in dangerous places and situations that had the potential to claim his life. A potential that had spelt the end of a future together as far as Fliss had been concerned.
But the safety of Morriston was already violated, wasn’t it? Fliss had never been this afraid in her life. It wouldn’t matter if Angus was still furious with her for the way she had ended things. It wouldn’t matter if she only saw him for a moment or two in the distance. Just knowing he was nearby would give her the strength to do what she knew she had to do.
Something that could in no way include the safety of Jack’s underground cellar.
The Iroquois helicopter ferrying the personnel equipped to contain and deal with whatever the situation evolving in Morriston could produce was being buffeted by strong wind gusts as it crossed the island’s spine of the Southern Alps near the Lewis Pass.
The majority of people on board were part of the special operations squad—an elite division of the police force. Only two of the men were specially trained paramedics whose training crossed the boundaries between police and ambulance. One of those medically qualified SERT members on board the helicopter was Angus McBride.
He nudged the man sitting closest to him and leaned in to be heard above the engine noise.
‘Do you think this is for real?’
His partner, Tom, shrugged eloquently. Then he grinned and Angus could hear the message as clearly as if it had been shouted. If the early and somewhat hysterical calls to Police Control were to be believed, there was definitely some kind of battle going on in the sleepy seaside settlement of Morriston.
It sounded like more than one person was armed and dangerous. More than one victim had already been targeted or caught in the crossfire and whoever the perpetrators were, they were not likely to simply give themselves up to the police.
The squad on board this helicopter was heading into unfamiliar and hostile territory and additional resources in the way of manpower or equipment were not going to be readily available. This could well prove to be the biggest challenge he and Tom had faced since joining SERT.
So why wasn’t Angus experiencing the same adrenaline rush that Tom’s grin had advertised?
Because Morriston was the destination, of course.
Angus leaned close to his partner again. ‘Want to know something weird? I was planning to visit Morriston in the next week or two.’
Tom’s eyebrows disappeared into the black balaclava covering his head. ‘What on earth for?’
Good question. Angus hadn’t even told his best mate that he’d finally got over himself and made enquiries at the emergency department of Christchurch’s biggest hospital in order to find out exactly where Fliss had taken herself off to when she’d walked out of his life.
Would he really have followed through on his intention to go and see her? To risk rejection again if she was still happy with the way things now were?
It didn’t matter now. It didn’t matter that the thrill of a big job unfolding had failed to capture Angus. The only thing uppermost in his mind was fear and the notion of shining a torch on that fear and making it shrink by exposure was too tempting to resist.
‘Fliss is there.’
It seemed incongruous to be shouting something that touched such a private part of his soul but there was no danger of anyone other than Tom hearing. And he was the only one who would recognise the significance of the statement. He deserved to know that Angus had a personal agenda on this job. And Tom would know exactly how significant that agenda might be. He’d seen how devastating it had been to have Fliss walk out like that. He’d had to work with Angus in the weeks when despair and anger had vied for a controlling position in mood determination.
‘No way!’ Tom looked shocked. ‘I thought you said she’d gone up north.’
‘I thought she had. I never bothered asking for a specific forwarding address until a few days ago.’
‘Why the hell would she go to a place like Morriston?’
‘Guess she wanted something a bit different.’
Tom shook his head. ‘That’s not different. It’s a total cop-out.’ He glanced at Angus. ‘You sure she’s there right now?’
‘As far as I know.’
‘You worried, mate?’
Angus could say nothing. He could only set his lips into a grim line and look away from the concern on Tom’s face.
Of course he was worried.
Worried sick.
Why hadn’t he tried earlier to find Fliss? To contact her? To see if he could find a way to persuade her to come home?
To arrive like this wasn’t going to help anything. His bullet-proof vest and dark camouflage clothing would only remind Fliss of why she had left in the first place.
But that didn’t actually matter right now. The need to find and protect the only woman he had ever truly loved was an issue quite separate from the possibility of them ever getting