the dunes, Maya said, “He’s scary. He’s a bad man.”
“Yeah. He is.”
THEN
LOZZA
As Lozza drove home with Maya, their boards strapped onto the roof, she chewed on her lip and turned over in her mind the enigma that was Ellie and Martin Cresswell-Smith. The woman’s bruises. How terrified she’d acted when she’d spotted her husband in the dunes. How he’d controlled her. The look in his eyes.
The woman was in trouble.
But where did Lozza’s cop boundaries lie between interfering without official reason and her own deep-down personal drivers around domestic abuse? Of all people, Lozza needed to walk the line carefully. The reason she’d been demoted was because she’d acted badly in response to violence. She’d used violence herself.
The reason the social workers had finally allowed her to adopt Maya was because Lozza had gone to great effort to demonstrate that her slate was clean and to show she could be a responsible and nurturing single mother to a child who herself had been orphaned by domestic violence.
Lozza had only to slip slightly and there were people who’d see to it she was stripped of her badge after what had happened on the murder squad.
She shot a glance at Maya, who was fiddling with the radio in search of a new tune. She owed it to her kid to keep her job, to keep her reputation sterling. She owed it to Maya to be a good example as a human being. And the one thing Lozza was realizing was that more than anything in this world, she wanted a happy home, a warm home for her daughter. She wanted Maya to live in a world where there was no violence. Where she didn’t have to hide under a bed and be scared.
Lozza turned her car onto the road that took them past the Puggo. The place was hopping, and through the open car windows came the mouthwatering scent of burgers cooking on the barbie. Her stomach grumbled—surfing always built up her appetite.
Lozz slowed, checking the cars parked outside to see who was there. She half expected to find her partner’s truck outside. The Puggo was Gregg’s second home. It was also ground zero for gossip. A thought struck Lozza.
If anyone would know anything about the Cresswell-Smiths, it would be Rabz.
“Hey, Maya, how about takeout burgers off the barbie and chips instead of warmed-up pizza?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Can we get extra chips?”
Lozza grinned. “You betcha.” She found a parking space along the curb farther down the road beneath a giant lilly pilly tree. The Puggo was a licensed establishment, not a place for minors, but while she waited at the bar for the takeaways, she could quiz Rabz, or whoever else was in there. “You okay to wait here?” she asked Maya.
“Are you kidding? For burgers and chips?”
Lozza left Maya in the car listening to an audiobook and hurried up the street. She passed a beat-up dirt bike parked a few vehicles behind hers. It didn’t look roadworthy, and she took note of the Queensland registration. Cop habits died hard. Her stomach grumbled audibly as she climbed the stairs to the Puggo veranda, and she reckoned she’d order extra chips for herself as well.
Lozza pushed through the PVC strip curtain and entered the pub. Her eyes adjusted and her spirits lifted with the boisterous atmosphere.
No sign of Rabz.
Instead, there was a new guy working the bar—young and tanned, with long dreads and a happy face. He was chatting and laughing with two women bellied up to the counter. Sue and Mitzi. Old-timers from the local board riders club. She went up to the bar, said hello to the women, and placed her order with the young barkeep. He called it into the kitchen.
“Rabz not working tonight?” she asked him.
“She’s away in Sydney,” said the bartender. “Won’t be back for another week or so.”
Mitzi and Sue were yabbering about the greenies in a booth in the back corner of the pub.
Lozza followed their gaze. Mitzi turned to her. “Every evening it’s the same thing. They come in to plot ways to stop the Agnes Basin project, then get shit-faced and lose the plot.” She chuckled. “This evening they’re all afire over some enviro report which apparently clears the way toward shire approval.”
“Who did the enviro consult?” Lozza asked. She was personally against the development of that area herself.
“The dodge brothers,” said Sue.
“Yeah. Word is you can slip those dodgy brothers a bribe and they’ll write anything you damn want in a report,” added Mitzi.