Beautiful Lies (41 page)

“It's lovely,” she told Cullen, because she didn't want her disappointment to infect him. “An oasis. After Mei's story, I didn't know what to expect.”

“Dad built it for Mum.”

“Was she happy here? Or can you remember?”

“She was. It was a good life for all of us while she was still alive.” Cullen got out and so did she. Luke waited until they had gotten their bags from the back; then he drove off to park. “I guess we find Winnie,” Cullen said. “And hopefully a couple of Llewellyn men.”

Winnie was waiting just inside the door. Liana took in the flowered polyester housedress, the tightly permed curls, the seamed cheeks. But nothing was as telling as the look on Winnie's face. Liana closed her eyes as Cullen introduced them. Their son was not here. She had seen pity in Winnie's eyes.

“You've missed your dad,” Winnie told Cullen without prelude.

“Have we missed our son, as well?”

Winnie didn't pretend not to understand. “Yes, it seems you have.”

Liana made a noise low in her throat, and Cullen put his arm around her. “Tell me whatever you know,” Cullen said.

“I've made tea. Come into the kitchen for a cuppa.”

Liana looked up at Cullen, and he nodded to assure her it was necessary. “Thank you,” she said stiffly. “We could use some.”

The kitchen was large and airy, scrubbed as clean as a hospital operating room. Winnie motioned them to a table. “I reckon you sat there often enough as a lad,” she told Cullen. “I hear you could charm a biscuit out of any and all of the cooks who came through here, even the ones who hated children.”

“Please, Winnie,” Liana said. “Tell us what's going on. We've been worried sick. We didn't even know Matthew had come to Australia until yesterday—”

“Day before,” Cullen said. “I think.”

Jet lag was still tugging at her, but terror was winning. Time had stopped the moment she'd discovered her son was missing.

Winnie poured tea from a brown pottery teapot. Then she brought over a tray, complete with sugar cookies. She joined Liana and Cullen at the table, handing them cups before she settled back with her own.

“I'll tell you everything, because I know what you must be feeling. And because there has been enough heartbreak in this house to last another century. Your son arrived…” She spread her fingers and appeared to count backwards. “Tuesday. Yes, that's right. Tuesday. Your father had no idea he was coming. He got a call from a woman over at Cadwale Gap. The Myrtles have a place there, just a hotel of sorts and a little store. Cater to some of the bus tours,
or blokes from the road trains. That sort of thing. It's a way to make money…”

She sipped her tea. “As I was saying, Helen Myrtle rang the boss and told him that his grandson and a girl—”

“Girl?” Liana said.

“Yes, dear. A girl. I'll explain.” She proceeded to. When she had explained about Matthew's arrival, about Tricia and Tricia's parents, she sat back. “It surprises me you figured out so quickly where he was.”

“Winnie, I rang the station just about the time you're telling us Matthew arrived, and I asked for my dad. Someone said he was off at the far end of the place and wouldn't be back for a few days.”

“Yes, I know. That was me, and I'm not proud I didn't tell the truth. But I guessed who you were right away. You sound like your father on the telephone, you know. And I knew why you must be calling. I wanted…”

“What?” Cullen demanded.

“I wanted them to have some time together, you see. Roman and Matthew. I was afraid you'd make your father send the boy home right away. I knew the boss would make Matthew ring you eventually, and he did, of course. I suppose I was just trying to buy a little time.”

“But we never got a phone call from Matthew,” Liana said.

“Well, perhaps that's not so surprising. The boy seemed intent on keeping this a secret, didn't he? Perhaps he fooled the boss, as well, when he said he rang you.”

“The boy is
still
missing,” Cullen pointed out. “Winnie, where is Matthew? And where is my father.”

Winnie finished her tea before answering, as if she was hoping it would sustain her when she finally spoke. “You see, that's what I don't know. I'm sorry. I truly am. But yesterday morning I rose early, the way I always do, and made
brekkie. I fixed more than usual, because of your boy. He eats, that one does. And he loves sausages….”

She must have seen the impatience in Liana's eyes, because she cut short her digression on Matthew's appetite. “Then I went to call him. I thought it odd that your father hadn't come to the table. You can set a clock by Roman Llewellyn. Five on the dot every morning, and not one moment later. Every morning of every day. Day in and day out—”

“Please,” Liana pleaded.

Winnie looked contrite. “Matthew wasn't in his room. His bed had been slept in. I know, because even though he'd made it, his standards, well, they aren't so high now, are they? But all his things were gone. So I went to tell Mr. Llewellyn. I thought he'd want to know. I knocked on his door, but there was no answer. I opened it. I had to,” she added, as if they would find fault with her nosiness. “He's been crook a time or two in the years I've worked here, and I thought perhaps he was again. But the room was empty. The boss was gone, as well. I'm afraid both of them were gone. And no one here has heard a word from them since.”

L
iana prowled the front porch and waited for Cullen, who was questioning Luke and some of the other station employees, including Harold, Winnie's husband. When he finally returned, he launched in without preface. “It looks like they've gone walkabout. There's a car missing, one of the station's Jackeroos. Harold thinks supplies are missing, too. It looks like Dad took a battery, spark plugs, some other extras from a storage area. Nobody travels these roads without spare parts and petrol. If you can't get a car started by yourself in the middle of nowhere, you could sit for days before somebody comes by to help.”

“And he didn't tell anybody they were going off?”

“It's odd enough, but he's the boss. He can bloody well do as he pleases.”

“What about food and camping supplies?”

“Hard to say. Luke checked, but he just isn't sure. The men come and go, and they take whatever they need.” Cullen turned his hands up in defeat. “As dry as it's been, it will be hard to track them. They've had a head start on us.”

“If they're the ones who took the car.”

“I think we have to assume as much at the moment.”

“But what if somebody traced Matthew to Jimiramira, Cullen? What if somebody found him with your father…?” Her voice trailed off.

“Winnie saw both Dad and Matthew here at the house the night before she found them gone. She served their tea, and she was here until nine or so putting things to rights. No one could take Dad without a real dustup. If there had been a scuffle, someone on the property would have heard.”

“Well, no one heard them leave.”

“Because they were trying to be silent. Even the dogs wouldn't bark at Dad unless they sensed trouble.”

“Why would they take off that way? Without a word to anybody?”

“My father knew eventually I'd figure out where Matthew had gone and come looking for him. For some reason, he doesn't want me to catch up to him yet.”

“Why?” Liana pushed her hair behind her ears. As she'd waited for Cullen to return from his talk with Luke, she had battled fear and disappointment. They had missed Matthew, and once again they had no leads to where he might have gone. And what about the other person who might be looking for their son? Was he as confused as she and Cullen? Or did he have Matthew in his sights?

“I just don't know, Lee. I need some time to consider this.”

“Maybe they just wanted to spend a little time together. Maybe they'll be back soon.”

“It's not like Dad to nick off and leave everybody else at the station to carry the can.”

“Is there any chance he left a note?”

She watched him consider the possibility. “Dad's ashamed of his penmanship and spelling, and he rarely puts
things in writing. That's one of the reasons he insisted I go to university.”

“But this was important enough, wasn't it?”

“Winnie didn't find a note, but we ought to give it a bash. Maybe we'll find something else while we're at it.”

She grasped at straws. “Something else?”

He summoned a smile, nothing more than a twist of his lips, but she could see it was meant to reassure her. “I'm sorry, I don't have anything in mind. At this point, any scrap might do the trick.”

“Where do we search?”

“I'm going back to the airstrip to tell John what's happened. I'll see if he can stay over a bit, until we know what to do next. Then I think we should start looking in Dad's private office.” He started down the steps.

“Where can I look? Give me something to do.”

“Try the room Matthew was using, Lee. Have Winnie show you which one it is. Maybe you'll spot something she didn't.”

She suspected this was just busy work, but it was better than staring at the horizon. She watched Cullen climb into the station wagon and take off toward the airstrip; then she went in search of Winnie, who showed her to a guest room on the west side of the house.

“I changed the bed linen, dusted a bit,” Winnie said. “So it would be clean when he returned.”

The room was surprisingly large, with a window overlooking a huge red gum with strips of tattered bark curling along its trunk. Liana wondered if this had been Cullen's room as a boy. “I'll just look around.”

“I'm afraid you won't find a thing.” Winnie left her alone.

Liana sat on the edge of the double bed and stroked her hand over the bedspread where Matthew had slept. She
wasn't superstitious. She didn't believe that people who loved each other could send thoughts through time and space. But for a moment she tried to clear her mind and put herself in her son's size-ten shoes.

She saw nothing, felt nothing, except her own fear. Shaking her head, she rose and began to methodically search the room. She opened drawers and searched corners. She peered under the bed, into the deepest recesses of the closet, behind cheerful blue plaid curtains. When Cullen returned he found her deep in thought in an armchair whose cushion had been lifted and thoroughly probed.

“Nothing?”

“Matthew picked a fine time to stop leaving things around.”

Cullen lifted a dresser scarf and peered under it. “John's working on the landing gear. He claims it will be tomorrow morning at the earliest before we can get away, although I suspect he's just tinkering with perfection.”

“Then we'll spend the night here?”

“Unless something else develops.”

“Was this your room, Cullen?”

“That seems like a long time ago.” He moved to the window, parting the curtains to stare outside. “See that gum?”

She joined him. “Uh-huh.”

“At one time there was a limb I could grab if I opened this window. At night, when I was supposed to be sleeping, I'd slide along it to the trunk, then I'd climb higher until I could get to the roof. I'd crawl along the edge until I was directly over the porch that goes off the kitchen. There's a pantry on one side without windows. I could swing down from the roof at that point and leave with no one in the house being the wiser.”

“What happened to the limb?”

“I got heavier. It broke in half one night when I was ten or so. I fell on my arm and broke that, too. Dad never said a word. I suppose he thought I got what I deserved. But he had what was left of the limb sawed off. I was glad he didn't do the same to my arm.”

Cullen leaned against the windowsill and folded his arms. “I had a lot of dreams in this room, on that bed. Of places I'd go and things I'd do. Of women I'd meet.”

“What kind of women?”

“Dark-haired, dark-eyed women with mysterious smiles.” For the first time since they'd arrived at the station he grinned, and it seemed almost natural.

“Well, I wasn't dreaming about you. I was dreaming about wickedly handsome Frenchmen who would whisk me to their extravagant châteaus in private jets.”

“But you settled for a wickedly handsome Australian who whisked you to…” He groped for a word.

“Hell?” she supplied.

“Paradise.”

“You wish.” She smiled, then sobered. “We've got to find Matthew.”

“I've been thinking about what you said, Lee. You may be right and Dad just wanted to show Matthew some of the far corners of the property and didn't want anyone interfering. Wherever they are, he'll keep him safe.”

“If that was true, would we be able to spot them from the air?”

“If John's willing to take the plane up in the morning, we'll try that. But it's too dark for a run, and right now the landing gear's in pieces.”

“I saw another plane on the field.”

“No luck there. Harold says it's been grounded for a month. They're waiting for a part, and the station ‘copter
is out at one of the camps. In the meantime, we'll keep looking for a note. Let's try Dad's office.”

She followed him through the house. The office door was unlocked, which seemed lucky, since Liana wasn't certain Winnie would have given them permission to search the room. It was spacious, lined with cabinets and files, although there was no equipment except a complicated looking radiotelephone system in one corner. A utilitarian desk sat in the middle of the floor, covered with neatly stacked papers. A brass mirror was the only object adorning the walls.

Cullen did a cursory examination of the desk before he spoke. “Nothing in plain sight.” He dropped to the chair, lifted a stack of papers and began to read through them.

“Should I check file cabinets?”

“I don't know what you'd look for. Better to check behind them, under if you can. In case a note slipped to the floor.”

She knew what a long shot that was. But she got down on her hands and knees and began a search that led nowhere. Either Winnie or Roman himself was a stickler for cleanliness.

“Nothing here.” Cullen set down one pile of papers and took up another. He flicked through them, reading rapidly. “That's quite a view, Lee.”

She was crouched on all fours, but she swivelled and shot him a look. “I could check those papers, and you could do this.”

“I'm content.” He went back to work, trading one stack for another. “Looks as if Dad's introducing more Brahman blood into his Hereford stock. Not an easy task on a property the size of this one. Too many mickey bulls out in the bush…” He went on to another document. “He's paid off some loans recently….”

“Nothing about Matthew?”

“No. Just the sort of papers you'd expect….” Cullen sat forward, wrinkling his brow.

Liana dusted her hands against her slacks. “Did you find something?”

When he didn't answer, she got to her feet and joined him at the desk. “What is it, Cullen?”

“Nothing about Matthew.” He continued to read, flipping the top page of a stapled document to go on to the next.

She didn't repeat her question until he had finished. “What is it?”

“The answer to a lot of questions.” He set the document on the desk.

She didn't hesitate. She put her hand on his shoulder, automatically rubbing it in a wifely gesture of comfort. “Are you okay?”

He sat back and closed his eyes. She continued to rub his shoulder, then the back of his neck, kneading her fingers into a solid knot of tension. Without considering what to do next, she moved behind him and began a serious massage with both hands.

He sighed audibly. “I always loved it when you did that.”

“I'm guessing you still do.”

“Do you remember I told you someone loaned Southern Cross enough money to consolidate debts and keep us going after I mucked things up so badly?”

Everything fell into place, and she knew what he was about to say. “I remember.”

“It was my dad.”

“What were you reading, Cullen?”

“A letter from the bank that arranged the loan for me. A final statement.”

“You never suspected the silent partner was your father?”

“I thought Dad was the last person who might help. He expected me to fail when he sent me off. He told me as much when he signed over Southern Cross. He told me it was my inheritance and all I'd ever get from him.”

“People say things when they're angry, Cullen. Things they don't mean. God knows, you and I did often enough.”

“Why do you suppose he did it, Lee?”

She continued digging her fingers into his flesh. “Maybe he knew what it felt like to lose everything. Maybe he didn't want the same for you.”

“You don't know him.”

“Apparently you don't, either.” She felt a weight lifting from her own shoulders. She had pictured Matthew with a man who was incapable of warmth. Now, she knew Roman was something more.

Cullen hunched his shoulders. “Why did he keep it a secret?”

That part seemed easiest of all. “Because he didn't want to be caught in a lie. He told you Southern Cross was all you'd ever get.”

“Maybe.”

“And maybe he thought your pride would be destroyed if you knew the money came from him.” She rested her fingers lightly at the sides of his neck. “Would you have taken it?”

“No.”

She could feel the rapid thrumming of his pulse, the knots of tension that were holding back a lifetime of feelings. She smoothed his hair over his ears. “Cullen, he's a kinder man than you ever thought he was. And he loves you.”

“My Lord…”

She thought of all the mistakes that had been made, all the love that had been thrown away, all the tragedies that had befallen their families.

And she thought of Matthew, whose inheritance wasn't Jimiramira, wasn't Pacific International, wasn't Southern Cross, wasn't even the Pearl of Great Price, but instead all the terrible mistakes that both families had made for generations.

Her hands dropped to his shoulders. “We have to find our son. And we have to find Roman. Before something happens.”

“I think I know where to look, Lee.”

She waited. Afraid to ask.

“They've gone to Pikuwa Creek,” Cullen said. “It's Matthew's birthplace. It was Dad's birthright. I think they've gone back. Together.”

 

Matthew braced himself for one more bump in what his grandfather fondly called a track. Yesterday they had driven all day over unsealed road that cut through the heart of Jimiramira and other stations that seemed to have more weathered rock formations, scrub and dry riverbeds than cattle. Today, after a night under the stars and a breakfast of tea and damper, they had gotten up before the sun and driven harder, with only one stop at a rustic roadhouse for petrol and the best steak he'd ever eaten.

“Granddad, why don't you and my father speak to each other?”

Roman swerved to miss a hole which, in wetter country, would be known as a pond. “It's taken you a while to ask.”

“It's taken you a while to trust me.”

“What makes you think I do, boy?”