"Why would he do something like that? Threaten me, but not kill me, I mean."
"You claim to know him so well. You tell me."
She frowned. She'd seen Jack push suspects until they were so afraid they'd do just about anything he wanted. Hell, that's why they'd argued the day he'd disappeared. Was that what he was doing here? Pushing her? For what reason? What did he want that he couldn't just ask for?
"I don't know." It was an answer to both his question and her own.
He shifted again. There was something oddly angry in the movement. "Answers are going to be damned hard to come by if you keep refusing to face the questions."
She glanced at him. His hazel eyes were as emotionless as his face. Yet, she could feel his anger, almost as if it were a blanket about to smother her. Gabriel Stern was pushing her as much as Jack, and his reasons were just as unclear.
She studied the river of lights again. "Where are we going?"
"Karl's."
The weird looking hippie he'd introduced her to earlier. "Why?"
"He might be able to enlarge the filmstrip I found in the envelope.
"And?" she asked, sensing there was more.
"It's a safe place to rest for the night."
Yeah, right. Any of the dozen hotels they'd passed along the way would have been just as safe. He was going to Karl's for a specific reason.
They cruised onto the Tullamarine Freeway and headed out past the airport. The taxi didn't stop until they'd reached the expensive farmland region beyond the satellite city of Sunbury.
She climbed out and looked at the sky. Away from the aureole glow of the city lights, the stars shone bright and crisp. She turned until she found the Southern Cross, and then smiled. When she was very young, someone had told her the cross was a symbol of her freedom, something that could never be taken away. But like everything else in her past, the memory of who had told her that was gone. Only the cross remained, a symbol that was oddly comforting, even now.
The taxi reversed back down the dirt driveway. Gabriel walked over to where she stood.
"Your friend must have a bit of money to own farmland this close to Melbourne," she said.
The house itself didn't scream money, as Stephan's had. Granted, it was large, but the worn bricks and ramshackle appearance gave it an air that was more homely than expensive. What made it expensive was the location — smack in the middle of a top farming region.
"He's one of this country's top herbalists and grows all his own materials." He pressed a hand to her back, his fingers warm against her spine as he guided her forward.
The door opened as they approached, though no one appeared to have actually opened it. She raised an eyebrow and glanced at him. He smiled and pointed to the small camera perched in the entrance's corner.
"Security-com," he said. "I've spent a bit of time here."
More than a bit of time, if security gave him no-questions access at this time of night. He ushered her into a large living room warmed by one of the biggest log fires she'd ever seen. It was fake — had to be. The only trees that could be cut down nowadays were plantation stock, and it was considered something close to criminal to use such wood for fires. Besides, from this angle she could see one of the jets near the end of the log. Still, it created an illusion that was both inviting and comforting, and the warmth of the gas heating filled the room without being uncomfortable.
Karl came through a doorway at the far end of the room, tea-towel in one hand and a dripping bowl in the other. "Have a seat while I finish these. Won't be long."
Her interest was piqued by the long rows of books on the shelves behind the two sofas, and she walked over to take a look. She collected paperbacks, and that in itself was expensive enough. Karl's books were hardcovers and literally worth a King's ransom. Subject matters ranged from herbs to genetics and painting to history. Anything and everything. Fiction books were relegated to bottom rows, and judging from the amount of dust gathering, hadn't been touched for a while.
Karl came back into the room. "Drink?"
She moved around one of the sofas, and sat down. "I'd love a scotch and soda." She had a feeling she was going to need something strong — had a feeling she wasn't going to like the information Gabriel had come here to get.
Karl nodded. His wild brown hair, unfettered by a bandana, swayed in all directions. "Gabriel?"
"Just a beer will be fine. Where's the family?"
"Visiting Jan's folks. Her old man's not well."
She frowned and watched Karl pull a beer out of the bar's fridge. That last statement was a lie. It was obvious in the way his gaze had dropped, in the tension that had briefly curled his fingers. But if he and Gabriel were such good friends, why would he lie over an inane matter like that? Was it because of her presence? Or something else?