He offered her a conspiratorial wink. Kate bit down on her disgust. A few more minutes and she'd be out of there. She'd have what she'd come for and could leave. Just a few more minutes.

"Why don't you come in-for old times' sake? You can wait inside while I pack it up."

She froze. Nothing would get her to step inside his house ever again. "I'll wait here." She eyeballed him and prayed he'd let it go. She needed the laptop. She was sure she'd find the key to her mother's disappearance hidden within its cyber walls.

Darryl gave her a long, hard stare. Kate's breath caught again. After an interminable moment, he gave a half shrug and turned to head back inside. "Suit yourself."

She rubbed her arms through her coat and waited. The night air was almost upon them, heavy and moist. She longed for a hot shower and the security and warmth of her cheap motel room. She longed for the nightmare to be over.

The light in the opened doorway was blocked momentarily as Darryl made his way back down the front steps, a black carry case in his hand.

"Here you go. See, it wasn't all that hard, was it? Asking me for something? If you'd learned to do it sooner, life might have turned out a whole lot differently for you."

He closed the distance between them and his jovial expression disappeared. "But you never asked, did you Kathryn? You were too proud and too stubborn to ask me for anything. I'd have given you anything you wanted."

She held his gaze and clung to the last vestige of her courage. She was so close, so close to getting what she'd come for. "Give me the laptop."

"Here. Take it."

She reached out and grasped the case in nerveless fingers. His hand, huge and hairy, covered hers and tightened. Her heart almost doubled in on itself in panic.

"All the boys at the station breathed a sigh of relief for me when you left. I used to tell them every opportunity I got how hard it was trying to raise another man's rebellious whelp. Some of them had teenagers of their own. They knew exactly what I was talking about."

He released her hand and gave her a shove. She stumbled backward on the damp gra.s.s and struggled to maintain her balance. Clutching the laptop to her chest, she backed away and then turned and nearly ran toward her car.

His voice rang out in the crisp stillness. "They haven't forgotten, you know."

Kate willed her feet to slow. The last thing she wanted was to give him the satisfaction of watching her run away.

By the time she reached her car, she trembled like she had a fever. Sweat poured off her forehead and burned her eyes. She rested her cheek on the cold metal of the roof and dragged in mouthfuls of winter air.

The brick in her stomach moved and clenched and twisted. She spun away and bent over at the waist. Seconds later, she heaved and vomited all over the shadowy strip of asphalt beneath her six-hundred-dollar boots.

CHAPTER 13.

Darryl stared after the fading tail lights of his stepdaughter's rental car and watched until they'd disappeared. He had to give it to the girl, she'd grown some courage along with her curves. She'd surprised him by showing up on his doorstep and that wasn't easy.

He turned and headed back inside, closing the door behind him. Tugging another beer out of his fridge, he swallowed half of it before returning to his spot on the couch.

He hadn't expected her to ask for the laptop. The Munro p.r.i.c.k had obviously worded her up. Not that it mattered. Darryl might bemoan the complexities of modern technology to anyone who would listen, but he wasn't stupid.

Once he'd realized the detective had spotted the computer on his visit, Darryl had known what he had to do. He cracked Rosemary's pa.s.sword on his first attempt and had combed through everything she had on her hard drive.

Not that there had been much. It was obvious his dear wife had spent most of her time surfing the Internet. He'd found a handful of folders in her Word program that contained copies of various newsletter services she'd subscribed to and not much else.

When he turned his attention to her email, things had become much more interesting. Scrolling through her Inbox, he'd noted the emails from her daughter. He'd opened all of them and had smirked at the girl's increasingly concerned tone.

A series of emails received by someone by the name of Daisyblu had caused him a moment's consternation. After reading their contents, he'd wracked his brain for who it might be. At last, it had come to him and he'd smiled, knowing there would be no danger from that quarter.

After deleting everything in Rosemary's Inbox, he repeated the process with the Word files. When Kathryn had asked for the laptop, he'd offered token resistance, knowing there was nothing on the computer that could incriminate him.

He was disappointed though, when she hadn't taken him up on his invitation to come inside. It would have been just like old times. Well, not exactly. She was no longer a teenager bending to his will.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was probably for the best. It was the same instinctive feeling that had caused him not to insist on her accompanying him into the house.

There was something different about her-a toughness that hadn't been there before. Somehow, somewhere over the years, she'd found the courage to stand up for herself and the new steel in her spine left him feeling a little disconcerted.

He'd have to watch her closely, in case she got any wild ideas into her head. He hadn't lied when he told her he still had plenty of friends on the force, but it wouldn't do for his carefully laid plans to go askew this late in the game.

CHAPTER 14.

Riley began the climb to Bill Cannington's dairy shed which was perched high on a hill above the winter-brown valley. His breath puffed out on mini clouds of condensation. The air was even chillier than it had been in town and it didn't take long for it to bite into his lungs.

As fit as Riley was, his body was still acclimatizing to the higher elevations of Watervale and he was only halfway up the steep path when he had to pause and catch his breath.

The farm's owner had called him at the station. Although reluctant to impart too much over the phone, Cannington had hinted he had information pertaining to the Sampson case.

With Hannaford still on Riley's back about finding the missing cow, he'd pulled on his heavy coat and had headed back out into the cold. Now he wished he'd waited until morning. In a couple of hours, night would set in and he had no desire to be out there when the temperature dropped below zero.

A tall man with stooped shoulders who looked like he was approaching sixty appeared in the doorway of the dairy, wearing dirty overalls and rubber boots. Recalling his last encounter with a milking shed, Riley vowed to steer clear of it.

"We might talk out here, if that's all right with you," he said as he closed the gap between them.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of a little cow s.h.i.t?" Cannington smirked and Riley ground his teeth, wondering if Sampson had shared details of his humiliation with the entire farming community.

"Let's just get this over with, shall we?" Riley tugged out his notebook and pen and flipped it open to a new page. "I take it you're Bill Cannington?"

The man nodded.

"So, what do you know about Jack Sampson's missing cow?"

Cannington kicked at a clod of dirt in front of him and took his time replying. "What do you know about dairy cows, Detective?"

Riley shrugged, unperturbed. "Not much. What do you know about policing?"

A faint tilt of Cannington's thick lips was the only indication he'd heard, but when he met Riley's hard gaze, there was a glint of respect in his deep-set eyes.

"Not much."

"I guess that makes us even then, doesn't it?"

Cannington scratched at the graying bristle on his chin with a dirty fingernail. "Guess it does."

"Right, then. Now we have that out of the way, what do you know about Sampson's missing cow?"

Hawking a glob of phlegm, Cannington spat in the dust at his feet. "That cow ain't missin'. She ain't even left the farm. Call up Jersey Australia and tell 'em to look up her registration number in the herd book and then go and check the livestock. You'll find her right where she's been all along-in Sampson's back paddock."

Riley's heart began a slow, hard thump against his ribcage. Suspicion took hold, but he needed to be sure. He eyed Cannington quizzically and kept his tone even.

"What are you trying to say, Mr Cannington?"

Cannington landed another globule of phlegm on the ground, this time only inches from Riley's polished boots.

"You city slickers are all the same. You wouldn't know your arm from your a.s.shole. What the h.e.l.l do you think I'm tryin' to say? That wily old coot has been doin' it for years. He files a police report about a missin' cow, gets it investigated so it looks all legit and then he claims it on the insurance."

"If everyone knows about it, why hasn't someone put an end to it?"

Cannington laughed without humor. "You're kiddin' me, right? How long have you been in town, Detective? Obviously not long enough."

Riley didn't answer. Cannington shook his grizzled head. "The boys at the station are in on it. Watson used to decide which cow would be the next to go missin'. He didn't want no doublin' up. That wouldn't be good for business. He was gettin' a cut of the insurance money. I've heard he's pa.s.sed the reins on to Hannaford, now."

Riley's mind whirled. He tried to stem the feeling of dej vu that flooded his consciousness. Not again.

Surely, not here in Watervale? The Local Area Commander on the take?

The farmer eyed him curiously. "I can see you're lookin' skeptical." He shrugged and peered into the distance at the mountains now deep in shadows. "h.e.l.l, don't take my word for it. Ask anyone. They'll all tell ya the same. Those that ain't in on it, that is."

His gaze landed back on Riley's. "I'm surprised you were the one to catch the case, to tell ya the truth. It's usually Hannaford who follows up Sampson's complaints. I guess it's just his way of havin' a laugh at the expense of the new kid."

Riley's head felt as foggy as the mist that had rolled in over the hills. There was a whooshing sound in his ears and he closed his eyes against it. His blood continued to pound. Stumbling, he almost collided with one of the wooden corner posts that supported the milking shed.

"Easy, mate. I didn't mean to rattle ya cage." Cannington reached out a steadying hand.

Riley breathed deeply. With an effort, he composed himself and hoped this story wouldn't make the rounds. Just what he needed, more fodder against the rookie detective. The town would never take him seriously.

Cannington peered at him with concern. "You all right?"

Riley grimaced. "Yeah, I'm fine. I guess I've been a little ignorant about the caliber of the officers I work with. I had no idea."

"Don't go too hard on yourself. It's not all of 'em. Watson was the main offender. We all thought it would stop when he retired, but instead, he pa.s.sed the baton onto Hannaford. Probably worth too much money to him."

Nausea swirled in Riley's stomach and he pushed it down with an act of will. How could he have thought police corruption would be limited to the city? Worse still, limited to his former command?

To be truly honest, he'd been beyond shocked when he'd discovered his former superior, Detective Inspector Shattler, and some of his cronies had been siphoning off cash found during drug raids. His disbelief had turned to crushing disappointment and disillusionment when he realized no one in the command wanted to know about it. Even those who weren't on the take hadn't wanted to get involved and thereby, had effectively condoned it with their silence.

Riley would never forget the day his former partner had come to him and told him to leave it be and forget what he saw and go about his business of locking up the bad guys-if one or two of their colleagues profited as a result, was that really so bad?

Stunned, Riley had been unable to respond. A few days later, Detective Inspector Shattler had called him into his office and had told him he was being transferred to Watervale.

"Why hasn't anyone done anything about it? Why hasn't someone reported it to the Ombudsman or Internal Affairs or the Police Integrity Commission?" Riley asked.

Cannington laughed, but the humor failed to reach his eyes. "You have to be kiddin'? We're talkin' about the Local Area Commander. Who's goin' to have the b.a.l.l.s to put his name in? We have to live here. If ya don't have the local law enforcement on side, you're in a world of hurt. Even a few beers down at The Bullet on a Friday night might become a ha.s.sle."

Riley stared at him in confusion. Cannington shook his head, his lips turning down in disgust. "You city slickers have no idea. Do you know how many miles you traveled to get here? We're fifteen miles out of town. And there's plenty of blokes further out than us. How many of 'em do you think call up a cab to take 'em home after they've had a few too many?"

Comprehension dawned. Dread settled in the pit of his gut. His skin p.r.i.c.kled and his feet felt weighed down by concrete. The cow scam was probably only the tip of the iceberg. The corruption could be rife throughout the entire force. And what did it say about Watson, who, until recently, had been at the helm? Could he really be so deceptive? So completely amoral? And if so, was Kate right? Was he behind the disappearance of her mother?

As if he could read Riley's mind, Cannington cleared his throat and spoke again. "I hear you've been talkin' to people about Rosemary Watson."

Riley shrugged and remained silent.

"Watervale's a small town, Detective. Word gets 'round."

Riley strove to keep his tone casual. "What have you heard?"

"This and that. I heard you paid Commander Watson a visit. Apparently, he was none too happy about it."

"His stepdaughter's reported her mother missing. I was merely making enquiries."

Cannington stepped closer and lowered his voice, although as far as Riley could tell, there was no one else around for miles.

"I've never liked that son of a b.i.t.c.h. Corruption aside, I just can't stand to see the way he treats that girl."

Riley stilled. "Kate?"

Cannington gave a brief shake of his head. "No, not Kate, although he didn't seem to have much time for her, either. It's Rosemary I'm talkin' about."

"What do you mean?"

Cannington's unshaven jaw tightened. "He treats her like s.h.i.t. That's what I'm talkin' about. She's totally dependent upon him and he never lets her forget it. She ain't got much money of her own. She has to beg him for everythin' she needs. If he doesn't want to give it to her, she just doesn't get it and he's one h.e.l.luva mean son of a b.i.t.c.h."

"You've known her a long time."

"Yeah, I have. I knew her before she was married." Cannington looked out across the valley. The sun had dropped behind the mountain, shrouding the land in shadows. His voice was soft when he spoke again. "I met her the first day she arrived in town. I'd never seen such a pretty girl. She took my breath away."

Rearing back in surprise, Riley worked fast to stem the frantic flow of his thoughts. "You dated her?"

A nostalgic smile tilted Cannington's lips. "Yeah, I dated her. For a few short weeks, we were almost inseparable. I'd even drawn up plans to modify the farmhouse to make allowances for her wheelchair."

Riley had to look away from the bleakness in the other man's eyes. Silence stretched between them. He hated to break it, but he needed to know. "What happened?"

"Watson's what happened." The words were spat on the ground, where they lay untouched in the dust.

Riley's head spun. Cannington had been in love with Rosemary Watson. Maybe still was. Did his accusations against the former commander stem from his obvious dislike of the man who'd stolen his girl? Could it be a simple case of jealousy? It wouldn't be the first time that happened.

Could he dismiss Cannington's revelations as the unsubstantiated ramblings of a man who'd lost the girl and was now h.e.l.l bent on revenge? Or was there some truth to his allegations?