Free Out of Alice by Kerry McGinnis Page A

children and it was bad enough having one of them at risk . . . She fought to keep her mind from replaying the incident and was visited with an idea instead.
    â€˜Becky,’ she said, tossing away the dregs of her tea. ‘I want you to pick a few leaves off all the different sorts of trees and bushes you can reach. Can you do that, do you think?’
    â€˜Yes. Only, why?’
    Sara smiled. ‘You’ll see. It’ll be something for your book, another surprise.’
    Later that evening, with Becky asleep, Sara asked Len if she could use the printer in the office. Jack had gone off to the quarters by the time she had finished, and shortly after he left Len excused himself and she heard his bedroom door shut. Night shrouded the homestead; the diesel was off for once and somewhere nearby a mopoke was calling. Sara trod quietly out into the garden to gaze at the starry expanse of sky, stiffening as she felt a cold touch on the back of her leg. Thoughts of snakes shot through her mind, then sense returned and she stooped to fondle the dog’s head.
    â€˜Jess. You miss him, don’t you? Never mind, he’ll be home soon.’ The dog’s tail swung against her knee, then Jess padded off and Sara returned indoors. When she was in bed she finally let herself think of Kileys bore and what had happened there. Below the frustration and fright bubbled a small measure of excitement, for she was almost certain the tiny instant of recall was a memory. She had first thought it a dream, but it seemed too real for that. Besides, dreams didn’t come with olfactory and sensory impressions. She had smelled the gums, and the burn of the hot sand had been real. It was no dream. She and the little boy had been there – well, not to Kileys, obviously, but they had played in a creek very similar to that one. The question was, where? And why had she screamed at the sight of Jack? Though it hadn’t been at
him
, she knew, because she’d been dazzled by the sun and had only seen his shape. Just, she suddenly realised, as she had only seen the shape of the man, who had subsequently stalked her, that day at the beach, the first time the sense of terror had overwhelmed her.
    Sara knotted her brows, staring into the blackness. The only light came from the illuminated dial of the alarm clock on the dresser. The darkness of the room was like her memory, she thought, the tiny pinpoints on the clock face the pitiful segments of all she could recall. It was as nothing set against the dark, but she had to hold to it and struggle with the blackness until something was forced to yield. Only when the glitter of yellow light had grown to flood the room would she know what was hidden within it.
    Something had made her faint and, whatever Jack had said, it wasn’t dehydration! Abruptly Sara remembered the incident in Mildura and bit her lip. And she’d told him today’s fainting spell was a first. Damn! She had never intended to lie, which reminded her again of her stalker and that sent her thoughts uselessly back to her reason for being here. Weren’t deliberate omissions a form of lying, anyway? There was so much she hadn’t told him but how could she, when so many things made so little sense? Sara wished there was somebody she could talk to about it all. Beth, perhaps, if she were home and unburdened by Sam’s illness, but she couldn’t lay her problems on top of the far more urgent ones her employer already had.
    Beth had rung earlier that evening but Len, returning from the office where the phone was, had simply shaken his head at his brother-in-law’s lifted brow. ‘Not so hot,’ he’d murmured. ‘She thinks they’ll wait an extra day in town. Sam’s feeling a bit tired.’
    â€˜Well, it’s a long trip,’ Sara said, her gaze on Becky. ‘I thought I was never going to reach Charlotte Creek when I came out.’
    â€˜Yes.’ Len