Evidence of Love

  Evidence of Love

  Elisabeth Rose

  Evidence of Love

  Elisabeth Rose

  She survived years as a gangland wife, sacrificing everything to the family. But now they’re threatening the one thing that she will never, ever give up — her child.

  When Maja’s abusive gang boss husband Tony is murdered, she takes the opportunity to flee, change her name, and leave her criminal family and her past behind. As Lara Moore, she and her toddler son Petey live quietly in suburban Sydney. Then, one act of kindness threatens to reveal her secrets and unravel the threads of her new life. But Detective Nick is dedicated and determined, the antithesis of everything she was brought up to believe about the police. Slowly, Maja finds herself drawn out of her shell and into his protective embrace.

  Investigating Detective Nick Lawson doesn’t know what it is about the prickly, reclusive young mother that attracts and intrigues him, but as the facts about her crime-steeped family emerge, Nick doubts whether his career would survive this relationship, even if she were interested.

  Then, to Lara’s horror, her past meets her present, and thoughts of love and a future are lost as the fight for her child begins.

  About the Author

  Multi-published in romance, author Elisabeth Rose lives in Australia’s capital, Canberra. She completed a performance degree in clarinet, travelled Europe with her musician husband and returned to Canberra to raise two children. In 1987, she began practising tai chi and now teaches tai chi classes. She also plays and teaches clarinet. Reading has been a lifelong love, writing romance a more recent delight.

  Evidence Of Love is her first romantic suspense and fourth book for Escape. Contemporary romances The Ripple Effect, E for England and Mango Kisses are also available.

  Acknowledgements

  My thanks to RWA member Margaret, who answered a call for information about the RPA hospital and also reminded me about the activities and abilities of two year olds.

  Thanks also to my friend Mike, a retired policeman, for his comments and answers to my questions.

  And thank you once again to my daughter Carla, a treasury of information about all things financial and legal pertaining to the business and, in this case, criminal world.

  To Colin, Carla, Nick and Paige.

  Contents

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing…

  Chapter 1

  Lara glared at the man standing on her doorstep holding up his ID in a worn leather wallet. Another cop but in plain clothes. Thin-faced and weary-looking despite a pair of deceptively penetrating eyes. Didn’t catch the name.

  She forced herself to be civil but it was an effort. The shock hadn’t worn off yet, nerves still rattling despite two cups of tea. ‘What do you want? I already told the constable everything about two hours ago.’

  ‘Just a few more questions, please.’

  She’d heard that before. Lara gritted her teeth and considered closing the door in his face but an image of the girl screamed into her mind on turbo boost. Couldn’t let this crime go unpunished even if it meant dealing with the law. She nodded once and stepped aside to allow him entry, gestured he should go into the living room, followed him on reluctant feet. Police in her home — not good —made her nervous, edgy and rude. There’d been too many of them in her childhood, in her life, never with a good outcome for a member of her family. Don’t talk to police was etched in her bones.

  Petey, sitting on the rug surrounded by coloured wooden blocks, looked up and smiled. He held out a block in one chubby hand. ‘Wed bock.’

  The man stopped just inside the doorway gazing down at her baby. She’d have to teach her son discernment when it came to strangers. At the moment he was far too trusting and far too sweet. He had to learn police weren’t friends.

  ‘What’s his name?’

  She didn’t answer.

  He stepped forward, squatted next to Petey and placed a block on the teetering pile her boy had constructed. Petey swiped his hand across and knocked them all flying, let out a shriek of delighted laughter. The cop straightened with the shadow of a smile on his lips. He didn’t smile much, she could tell. None of them ever did.

  ‘Cute boy.’

  Two lines deepened on either side of his almost smiling mouth as he met her eyes. A startling and unexpected tug of attraction cemented the frown on her face.

  ‘What do you want to ask me?’ Lara cut across Petey’s laughter abruptly. She didn’t sit and she wouldn’t invite this intruder to sit either. Doubly dangerous. A cop with a slow, sexy smile. That other face flashed into her mind, sexy, deceitful, manipulative. Never even knew his real name.

  He pulled a notebook from his pocket.

  ‘Tell me what happened this morning, please.’ The almost smile, along with the brief lapse of judgement on her part, had gone.

  Lara jammed her lips together and walked across to the front windows where the curtains stirred lazily in the soft breeze from outside. The rain had cleared; sunlight sparkled on the wet leaves in the tiny front garden. She didn’t realise she was holding her breath until her lungs protested and she exhaled in a burst of frustration. She’d said it to the uniforms this morning in the park. Say it again, get it over with, then he’d leave. She flung the curtains back and pushed the window wide, choking in his presence. How did men like him fill a room so completely? Why did this man?

  ‘I was running along the waterfront with the baby in his stroller. I go regularly, a couple of times a week.’

  ‘Always at the same time?’

  She turned and nodded, discovered he was watching her through those tired, patient eyes. Something clicked in her mind. He wasn’t threatening. This wasn’t about her, wasn’t about her family. This was something else entirely. He wanted her help and that girl deserved it. She modified her tone. ‘About seven for an hour or so, sometimes less.’

  ‘Many people about?’

  ‘This morning it was a bit overcast and drizzly so there weren’t as many as usual.’

  ‘Did you take your usual route?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘See anyone or anything odd?’

  She shook her head slowly, remembering. ‘The boot camp groups were there. I don’t know if they were the same people as always but you can find that out.’ She met his gaze briefly, challenging him. He didn’t react. His eyes were a greeny brown colour with dark circles in the soft skin of his cheeks. He needed a shave. Up all night? She looked away.

  ‘I recognised a few regulars. I don’t know names.’ She didn’t chat to people at random. Not like Ellie next door who had as much discernment as a carrot and would talk to anyone with ears on their head, functioning or not.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I run right around towards the city end till the path goes up steps then I run back. I do it a few times.’

  ‘Must be fit,’ he murmured. His eyes strayed to her body. Lingered a moment then returned to her face. She ignored him, ignored the flop of dark brown hair which gave him an incongruously boyish look, ignored the tiny tingle of awareness that scruti
ny evoked. He didn’t know why she ran, what pushed her to keep pounding the path when her body yelled stop.

  ‘When I reached the steps I stopped for a moment because the baby was grizzling. Normally I’d just swing around and keep running but that’s when I saw her.’ She stopped and took in a deeper breath, swallowed. ‘A shoe first, then her feet, in the bushes.’

  ‘So — visible from the path?’

  ‘Sort of. I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t stopped. I think anyone running or walking by would have gone straight on up the steps and missed her.’

  He made a note in his book.

  ‘Do you know who she is?’ Her voice trembled and she made a deliberate effort to control it. A girl, beaten, half strangled and dumped like rubbish.

  ‘Not yet. We’re working on it. It’s difficult with no ID and too early for her to be reported missing if she wasn’t expected home or lived alone.’

  She had to ask. ‘Was she raped?’

  He dragged in a sad breath. ‘No, he may have tried and failed or started but was interrupted. She was bashed. Did you see anything else? Any other items lying around? Clothing, handbag?’

  ‘No. Just the shoe.’ Incongruous. Red and shiny, lying on its own, half obscured by a branch. Not the type of shoe discarded deliberately, not the type of shoe a girl would wear to walk in that area of the waterfront.

  ‘And you didn’t recognise her at all? Not one of the regulars in the park or someone you see about?’

  She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak as the image swamped her mind. Lara bit her lip, furious her voice trembled, weak in front of this man.

  ‘You probably saved her life. She’d been there for hours.’ His voice was gentle, reassuring, with a hint of something akin to respect. Not that she knew what that was like coming from police.

  But his sympathetic tone encouraged her enough to say, ‘I thought she was dead.’ The barest wisps of breath coming from the battered body when she pushed her way in to see why two feet, one high-heel clad, lay at odd angles under the low branches. Her own heart pounding with shock as she fumbled to dial the Emergency number. ‘Will she survive?’

  ‘Yes. She might be able to tell us who did it. If we’re lucky.’ He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

  She nodded with a sudden flash of insight into how horrible his job must be at times. Then she clamped down on that thought. The police had never earned any sympathy from her. Deep down they were all the same. They marked their target and went for it. This time, though, she hadn’t hesitated to call despite knowing that along with the ambulance would come close dealings with the force she’d prefer never to go near again.

  ‘Did she say anything?’

  Lara shook her head. ‘She couldn’t.’

  ‘But she was conscious?’

  ‘Barely.’ She moistened her lips and swallowed. ‘I think she knew I was there though.’

  ‘Did you touch her?’

  ‘I had to, to check for a pulse. On her neck.’ She touched her own throat briefly where the blood beat strongly through the arteries. ‘And I held her hand.’ And talked to her — reassuring words, trying to comfort the poor battered girl lying damp and abandoned. Let her know she wasn’t alone now, help was on its way, she had support.

  Something must have registered on her face because he studied her for a moment. ‘Can your husband come home to be with you?’

  ‘Why?’ That jolted her. Did she look helpless?

  ‘You’ve had a nasty experience,’ he said. ‘Not the usual start to your day.’ She almost laughed. He thought she was a normal housewife, a young, middle-class mother with a career put on hold while she took time off to raise her son.

  ‘I don’t have a husband. Not anymore.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  She shrugged. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You may like to ask a relative or friend to come over for a while. Or I can ask someone to drop by — a counsellor?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ That was a joke. What use could a counsellor be to her? Where she came from people dealt with their problems themselves. No-one talked to outsiders about private things.

  He slipped the notebook into his coat pocket. ‘All right. Thank you, Mrs Moore. If you think of anything else, call me. Any time.’ He handed her a card. She didn’t look at it.

  ‘It’s not Mrs. Catch the bastard,’ she said harshly. She strode to the front door and dragged it open, waiting for him to go.

  He paused as he passed her, close enough to see dark flecks in those green brown eyes, close enough to smell soap on his skin and mints on his breath. She had a sudden urge to brush the lock of hair from his brow. Didn’t.

  ‘I aim to,’ he said as she closed the door.

  She believed him. She’d seen men like him before, focussed and dangerous. Ruthless in their hunt. With him it was disguised by the weariness and the casual manner but underneath he was as dedicated and determined as the rest. Those types of men operated on both sides of the law. Criminals and police, all as driven as each other.

  Petey looked up with a big smile on his cherubic little face and said, ‘Mumumum,’ when she rejoined him.

  ‘Hello, baby boy.’ She scooped him up for a cuddle and kiss. ‘Don’t smile at policemen. You can’t trust them.’

  Petey wriggled and squirmed so she put him down amongst his blocks. That detective was different in some indefinable way. Don’t! They were never different. Underneath the fake charm and the easy manner they all wanted something and it was never on a personal level, it was either information or introductions or a foot up the ladder.

  She put the card with his number by the telephone with all the other random bits of paper with names and addresses, but not before she glanced at his name. A detective. Nick Lawson. She’d done her part, found the victim, called the authorities. The investigation would move on from her and she’d never need go near the police again. Or vice versa.

  New city, new start, new life. Not that she’d done anything wrong, other than be born into a family whose menfolk made a career of crime, been married against her desire and fallen for a man whose aim in life was to bring the family down. And had. Lawson hadn’t suspected she was other than she seemed and had no reason to. She’d done what any concerned person in her new, civilised world would do.

  With the sun out she could do the washing. Change the sheets and towels. Then it would be time to meet Ellie next door for a joint excursion to the supermarket for groceries. Ellie had a car, Lara had energy and strength to help carry loaded shopping bags. Both had eyes and hands to keep track of Petey. Mundane, safe, ordinary. Exactly how she wanted her life to be.

  ***

  ‘You found her?’ screeched Ellie. ‘That poor girl on the news?’

  ‘Yes.’ Lara clicked Petey into his car seat. She closed the rear door. ‘I was running and saw a shoe then her feet in the bushes.’

  ‘My goodness! Do they know who she is?’ Ellie bundled herself into the driver’s seat, aquiver with excitement. Her armload of silver and jewelled bracelets jangled as she grabbed her seatbelt.

  ‘Not as far as I know but I doubt they’ll bother telling me when they find out.’

  ‘They should.’

  ‘Why? Cops do what they do. I’m just a footnote to the case.’

  ‘That sounds rather bitter.’ Ellie backed the car out, twisting round to peer through the rear window but managing to wiggle her fingers and grin at Petey at the same time. ‘What have the police ever done to you?’

  ‘Concentrate, Ellie, you’ll have us in the letterbox.’ Lara held her breath until the car cleared the solid brick gateposts, reached the end of the driveway in one piece and hovered waiting for a van to pass. This was the one drawback to shopping with Ellie. Years were shaved from her life every trip.

  ‘I’m an excellent driver. Not a blemish on my record.’

  ‘Wish you could say the same about your car.’ Lara grinned.

  ‘A few dents don’t matter. Those gatepo
sts are very close together.’ Ellie planted her foot and the car shot backwards, cutting off a bus, then leapt forward like a terrified rabbit.

  ‘Tell me all about it.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Finding the girl, of course. What’s her name?’

  ‘They don’t know yet.’ Lara gave the potted version of her statement to the police.

  ‘You saved her life.’

  ‘That’s what the policeman said. It’s touch and go whether she’ll make it, though.’ Lara sighed.

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘About nineteen or twenty, I’d say. Long blonde hair.’ Not much younger than herself.

  ‘Poor thing. Imagine if she was your sister.’

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘I know, too horrible to think about.’

  ‘I’m trying not to. Can we talk about something else?’

  ‘Of course.’ She hurled the car around a corner on the tail end of an amber light. ‘I wonder if they’ll catch him. He might be a serial attacker.’

  ‘Ellie!’

  ‘You’d better not run down there anymore.’

  ‘Why not? No-one’s going to attack me in broad daylight when I’m pushing a stroller. There are lots of people around. I’m not stupid, I don’t take Petey anywhere unsafe.’

  ‘Of course not. Being a mother makes us much more aware of things, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It sure does.’ Some mothers. Didn’t stop her own alcoholic mother letting her sons follow their father into the family business of breaking the law. And encouraging her daughter to marry the man her father chose, knowing he was on an even worse track to hell. The only good to come out of that short-lived liaison was Petey. And Ellie was right — Petey she would protect with her life. Just thinking about anyone harming him made her hands clench in fists.

  She stared out the window. She’d told the truth when she said she wasn’t sorry to be single, even though being single meant being a widow. It opened a window and she jumped, holding her baby close and running as soon as her feet touched ground. No, there were two good things, the second was her inheritance. Tony Petrovic was a crook through and through but he did have lucrative legitimate assets put in her name for devious tax reasons, the proceeds of which having been sold, served to support her and their son, and would for some time into the future.