‘She’s driven that thing from Adelaide,’ Sam said at last. ‘How?’
‘Blind faith,’ Doug said. ‘Some wrecking yard must have paid her to cart it away.’
It was structurally sound, Sam thought, but only just. Once upon a time it had been a little blue sedan, but its original panels had been replaced with whatever anyone could find. Some were painted bright orange with anti-rust. Some looked like they’d been attacked by a sledgehammer.
When running, the car sounded like a wheezing camel. Even the drive from entrance to car park was bumpy.
‘There’s a roadworthy sticker on the front,’ Doug said. ‘You reckon that’s because she needs to prove it to the cops half a dozen times a day?’ He grinned. ‘Never mind, it did its job. It got your dog here in time. Girl and car both need a medal.’
‘Yeah,’ Sam said absently. ‘I need to fix this.’
He bade Doug goodnight and headed back to his Jeep. It was a grubby surfer truck but compared to Zoe’s it was luxurious.
He should go back to the hospital. Friday was a normal working day. In eight hours he’d be on the wards.
Zoe would be there in six.
Zoe…
His head was doing strange things.
He climbed into his truck and headed where he always headed when he needed to clear his mind.
The beach was deserted. A full moon hung in a cloudless sky. His board lay where he’d dumped it hours ago. Just as well the tide had been going out, he thought, but, then, he’d been granted a miracle and a surfboard would have been a small price to pay for Bonnie’s life.
He needed to pay…something.
The hoons in the beach buggy would pay. Zoe had got a clear view of them, the hire-car logo, even part of the number plate. Doug had already made a call to the cops.
But Zoe?
What was it about her that twisted something inside him?
‘Maybe the fact that she saved your dog?’ he said drily, out loud. ‘Maybe that’d make anyone seem special.’
But there was something about her…
A heroic run with a dog far too big for her. An anger that he’d deserved.
But more. What?
Where were his thoughts taking him?
He was trying hard to haul them back on track. Sam Webster was a man who walked alone. He’d had one disastrous relationship. He’d loved Emily, but he hadn’t been able to protect her from herself. She’d died because of it, leaving him gutted and guilty and alone.
That night replayed in his head, over and over. Emily had had a stressful day in the wards and had come home to a letter saying she’d missed a promotion. Her mood had been foul as they’d headed to the beach. There’d been a storm and the surf had been unpredictable. He’d suggested a close-to-shore swim instead of their usual surf, but Emily had been coldly determined.
‘The surf’s fine. Sure, it’s dumping but we’re experienced enough to know which waves to leave alone. I’ve had enough people telling me what I can’t do today. Surf with me, Sam, or leave me be.’
He let her be. He was fed up. In truth he’d been growing more and more fed up with Emily’s erratic mood swings and her insistence that everything be done her way. He watched Emily for a while but she’d gone far out, waiting for the perfect wave, so he and Bonnie headed along the beach to walk out their wait.
They turned just as Emily lost patience and caught a wave she must have known was dangerous.
He remembered yelling. He remembered seeing Emily rise, catching the beginning of the curving swell, and he remembered seeing her look towards the beach, towards him. She waved and her wave was almost triumphant.
And then the wave sucked her high, curled and tossed her onto the sandbank with a force that even today made him shudder.
Enough. Don’t think about it. That had been five years ago. Surely the memory should have faded by now. And what was he doing, thinking of it tonight?
Because he’d met Zoe?
This was crazy. Where his thoughts were taking him was just plain weird. She was just another woman and there were plenty of women in his life. Half his colleagues were female. He had his mother, his sisters, his workmates, and for years their position in his life had been carefully compartmentalised.
Zoe…the way he was feeling…it didn’t fit.
Maybe it was because he owed her, he decided. He did owe her, big time, and Sam Webster always paid his debts.
Her car was a wreck.
Excellent. His mind cleared. He had a way to pay his debt and move on.
And he needed to move on, because for some reason it felt really important that he stop thinking about Zoe Payne. He needed to pay the debt and get her out of his mind.
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