Devil's Lair Read online

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  SARAH BARRIE is a bestselling Australian author writing suspense in rural settings. Her debut bestselling print novel, Secrets of Whitewater Creek, earned her a spot as one of the Top 10 breakthrough authors of that year, and her next three books, the Hunters Ridge series, also reached bestseller status.

  Sarah has also worked as a teacher, a vet nurse, a horse trainer and a magazine editor.

  Her favourite place in the world is the family property, where she writes her stories overlooking mountains crisscrossed with farmland, bordered by the beauty of the Australian bush, and where, at the end of the day, she can spend time with family, friends, a good Irish whiskey and a copy of her next favourite book.

  Also by Sarah Barrie

  Secrets of Whitewater Creek

  The Hunters Ridge Trilogy

  Legacy of Hunters Ridge

  Shadows of Hunters Ridge

  Promise of Hunters Ridge

  Bloodtree River

  DEVIL’S LAIR

  SARAH BARRIE

  www.harlequinbooks.com.au

  To the family who always were, and the treasured people who become it.

  Especially a much-loved grandma. Thanks Angie x

  CONTENTS

  About the Author

  Also by Sarah Barrie

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Acknowledgements

  Excerpt

  CHAPTER

  1

  Hunter Valley, New South Wales, 2017

  Callie leant against the solid warmth of her husband and sipped her coffee. From the back deck they looked over the sparkling pool to the long, neat rows of vines and the sun rising over the lush green mountains beyond their estate. Birds sang their first songs of the day in the blue gums that dotted the grounds, while the sweet scent of daphne caught on the warming breeze. Dale rested his head against hers. Callie could feel her eyelids drooping as the tranquillity seeped into her, even as the coffee slid down her throat.

  ‘Quiet day today?’ Dale murmured.

  ‘Yeah. You?’

  ‘Not so much.’ He played with a curl of her hair, letting it slide through his fingers. ‘How did I end up with such a beautiful wife?’

  She lifted a hand and tucked the auburn curl back behind her ear. ‘What do you want?’ she said with a laugh.

  He smiled against her forehead. ‘Do you think you could update the prices on the wine catalogue for me? It needs to go out.’

  She contemplated the request, took another sip of her coffee. ‘Sure. Do you think you could bring one of those 2008 vintage merlots back after work to fix the headache it’s going to give me?’

  He chuckled. ‘Deal. We’re a pretty great team, you and I.’

  ‘I think so.’ Rosellas flocked to the grass by the property gates, catching her eye and reminding her, ‘I think I want to put in another garden bed where that tumble of rocks sits near the front gate. It could look really great with the right plantings.’

  ‘I was going to take them away with the backhoe.’

  ‘You’ve been going to do that for the last five years.’

  ‘Things keep getting in the way.’

  She tipped her head back to smile at him. ‘Right. So, I should plant it out.’

  ‘You can take the girl out of landscaping, but you can’t take the landscaping out of the girl.’

  ‘I don’t think that makes sense.’

  ‘I think you’re right. Go ahead. It’ll look spectacular.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Paisley’s back today, right?’

  ‘Yeah. Should be. If she’s managed to tear herself away from Tassie.’

  ‘It’s a nice part of the world.’

  ‘Maybe we should find time to zip down there one of these days. You could show me where you grew up,’ she suggested.

  ‘I think we’ve got enough to do, don’t you?’ Dale asked.

  As though in agreement, the office phone rang. Callie groaned, untangled herself from the warmth of her husband and walked through the pair of glass doors to the cosy kitchen, snatching the cordless off the bench. It was unlikely the call would be business at seven in the morning, but habit had her answering, ‘Highgrove Estate, may I help you?’

  Silence. Then a mumbled … something. Dial tone.

  ‘Have a nice day,’ she grumbled as she replaced the handset on the charger. She picked up Dale’s mail, which was stacked by the phone. He was hopeless with correspondence. Unless she put it in his hand the mountain would only continue to get higher. A black envelope amid the more businesslike white collection caught her eye and she pulled a face. That one had been sitting there for close to two weeks. She carried it out along with the rest and dropped them in front of him.

  ‘Oh, ta. Who was on the phone?’ he asked.

  ‘Wrong number, I think.’ She sat down beside him. ‘What’s the black one?’

  A flicker of irritation flashed across his face. He shrugged, got to his feet. ‘Just something from an old school friend.’

  ‘Who is this old friend?’ she pressed, because his reaction was odd.

  ‘Not someone I want to renew ties with.’ He dropped a kiss on her forehead. ‘I’d better get moving.’

  ‘Do you have to start this early today?’ She caught him behind the neck before he could straighten, pressed her lips to his. ‘I could make breakfast … or …’

  ‘Witch,’ he groaned, removing her hand before kissing her fingers. ‘You know I do. And you need to look over that catalogue.’

  ‘Hmm.’ She sulked into her coffee.

  ‘I’ll make it up to you later.’ He leant in and kissed her until her toes curled. ‘We’ve got forever to look forward to lazy breakfasts.’

  ‘Okay … But take your mail!’ She reluctantly finished her own coffee as he scooped up the letters and his cup and disappeared into the house. She heard his car start up, the engine noise fading as he headed down the drive towards their winery. She stretched, took one last appreciative look over the grounds, over what they’d achieved in just five short years. Forever, she thought, sounded just perfect.

  Callie started on the catalogue right away, eating a slice of toast as she altered prices and checked her calculations. Assuming her assistant, Paisley, did get back today, she’d have her give it a final once-over before sending it out.

  She scanned emails and online bookings, and paid the latest assortment of bills, then, satisfied the office work was under control, decided to reward herself with time in the garden. She snatched her cap from the stand by the door and tucked her hair up underneath, then walked out into the sunshine. After a quick trip to the gardening shed, she pointed the wheelbarrow towards the wide, winding drive lined with rose hedges. Most of the roses were finished and required deadheading.
White blooms looked so lovely, but the brown mess that was replacing them did not. She worked quickly, humming to herself.

  ‘That’s quite a job you’ve got ahead of you,’ a friendly voice remarked.

  ‘Mrs Bates, good morning,’ Callie said to the woman staying in room five. ‘How are you enjoying your weekend?’

  ‘Everything’s perfect, dear. Which is why we come back every year—well that, and to restock the wine cellar,’ Mrs Bates said, eyes full of fun.

  ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to make you some breakfast this morning?’

  ‘We’re eating on the fly, but I’ll take you up on one of your delicious omelettes tomorrow.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘The gardens always look so beautiful here. You do a remarkable job.’

  ‘I enjoy it,’ Callie said. ‘Landscaping used to be my job but then I married and—’ she smiled, added a little lift of her shoulders, ‘—plans changed.’

  ‘Well, I just think that’s wonderful. A husband to love you, a beautiful home and business, and all these incredible gardens to play with. You’re living a fairy tale!’

  ‘I pinch myself occasionally,’ Callie agreed. ‘How is Gerard doing?’

  ‘Getting fat!’ Mrs Bates said of her son. ‘Being one of the top food critics in the country certainly doesn’t help the waistline! Did you happen to catch his review of that new restaurant down the road from here?’

  ‘Yes,’ Callie said and bit down on her grin. ‘It was a little rough.’

  ‘It was abysmal,’ Mrs Bates corrected. ‘I told him he would have been better off coming here.’

  Callie laughed. ‘For bacon and eggs?’

  Mrs Bates chuckled and gently touched a still fresh flower. ‘I do love these roses. I have a few at home. Haven’t managed to find one quite as incandescently white as this one, though.’

  ‘These are Icebergs. Make sure I give you some cuttings before you leave.’

  Mrs Bates’s face lit up. ‘I’ll do that. Thank you. Oh, here’s my ride,’ she said as tyres crunched behind them. ‘Never let it be said women take all the time in the shower. We’re off to McWilliam’s to stock up on their muscat. Marvellous stuff.’

  Callie sent the couple a friendly wave as they drove away. What would she and Dale be like together at that age? Still happy? In love? She hoped so.

  Her gaze fell on the pile of earth and sandstone that would soon become her next garden. She planned it in her head, mapping out what would go where. Some pretty groundcovers would crawl among the cavities in the smaller sections of rock, spilling over them in vibrant splashes of colour. Brightly coloured flax could fill the deeper holes. She’d include deciduous trees: a lime green robinia, and perhaps something red—a prunus?—to go with it to provide some shade in summer. There was a perfect spot for a pond in the low corner, so she’d measure it out.

  Callie had worked her way around most of the drive when she heard the hum of a car engine. She looked over her shoulder. A dusty silver Audi crept along the otherwise empty road. At the gate, the driver touched the brakes, once, twice, then drew the car to a stop. Idled.

  She wasn’t expecting new guests today, but she pulled off her gloves and tossed her shears on the pile of cuttings in the wheelbarrow. Smile in place, she moved around the hedge and approached the car.

  ‘Hi, can I help you?’

  The woman was too thin, dressed in casual clothes that spoke of a good fashion sense and a healthy bank balance. But even through the woman’s designer sunglasses Callie could see the edgy stare in the eyes framed by untidy bottle-blonde hair. The woman’s hands clutched the steering wheel, and one leg jigged up and down in a nervous staccato. ‘I’m looking for—’

  A quick beep from behind them made Callie look up. Paisley had pulled into the drive. She waved. Callie sent her a distracted smile and returned her attention to the woman now staring into her rear-view mirror.

  ‘Looking for?’ Callie prompted.

  The woman’s eyes darted back to Callie and her head shuddered from side to side in an erratic negative action. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

  The car jerked forward. ‘Hey!’ Callie jumped out of harm’s way, then watched the car speed off down the road. ‘What the hell?’

  ‘What was that about?’ Paisley called.

  ‘No idea. But there was something wrong with her.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The maniac driver I’ve never met before.’ Callie sighed and shook her head, glad her toes hadn’t been run over, and walked over to Paisley’s Pajero. ‘How was your trip?’

  Her assistant’s mouth twisted. ‘Eventful. Got time to hear about it?’

  ‘Yeah, I could do with a break,’ Callie decided, with one last glance back at the road. ‘I’ll catch up with you in the office.’ She followed Paisley’s car through the gates, picked up the wheelbarrow and steered it down the drive. By the time she put everything away, Paisley was on the phone, so she went through the office and into the house, made some cold drinks and took them back.

  ‘If you want coffee, I’ll go get you one. I felt like something cool.’

  ‘All good, thanks.’ Paisley made a note on the computer, then took a glass, sipped, and smiled. ‘Everything run smoothly while I was away?’

  ‘Of course. I’ve just updated the wine catalogue. You probably should do a last check.’

  ‘I’ll do it now.’

  ‘I think Dale was hoping you’d run straight over to the winery and help him when you arrived. He’s got a lot on today.’

  ‘Then I’ll be quick with the catalogue.’ She flicked through it. ‘We don’t have any check-ins today?’

  ‘No. I think I might go tree shopping. I want to play around with the front area by the gate.’

  ‘The boulders,’ Paisley guessed. ‘I knew you’d get to that one day.’

  Callie smiled. ‘Dale’s all for it.’

  ‘So he should be. You love it, and you’re damn good at it. This whole place looks like a magazine cover.’ The computer pinged with a new email and Paisley read it.

  ‘What is it?’ Callie asked when Paisley’s brow shot up.

  ‘Next door has put another offer in writing.’

  Callie pulled a face as she took a long sip of her lemon sparkling water. ‘The place is not for sale. Besides, Dale hates them and would rather die than see them turn this place into a hundred-room concrete monstrosity. I’m inclined to agree.’

  ‘It’s a lot of money.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  Paisley turned the computer monitor around. ‘Look at it.’

  ‘Fine.’ She looked, and choked on her water. ‘Wow.’

  ‘Yeah. Wow.’

  ‘And no.’

  Paisley nodded. ‘Good. I like my job here. Had to show you, though.’

  ‘So … Tasmania?’

  Callie regretted the question when Paisley’s eyes lost some of their spark.

  ‘It was freezing, as you’d expect at this time of year, and my welcome wasn’t a hell of a lot warmer. You know Dad and I haven’t been in each other’s company much over the last few years.’

  ‘But he asked for your help, didn’t he?’ Callie asked, confused.

  ‘No, Ned told me Dad needed my help,’ Paisley said. ‘They are two very different things. And he’s right. Dad’s having trouble managing out there. He’s always been fine on his meds, but dementia’s kicking in and he keeps forgetting to take them. His moods are all over the place with the bipolar and he’s paranoid someone’s out to get him because of the schizophrenia. He had a fall recently and whacked his head. Luckily, Ned turned up to mow the lawns. It’s only going to get progressively worse. He won’t be able to stay out there on his own forever.’

  ‘They have a good relationship, don’t they? Can’t Ned convince him to move into care?’

  Paisley leant back in the office chair. ‘Ned can’t cope with the heavy stuff. He has the emotional strength of a wounded deer, and his IQ isn’t exactly up there, either. Y
ou know the story.’

  Callie nodded slowly, remembering Paisley’s parents had taken Ned in because his mother was very young and didn’t want him. ‘Your mum was a psychologist, right?’

  ‘At the asylum down there. Pretty much ran the place—and ran Dad. If they’d stayed together, everything would be a lot different.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Callie silently wondered how Eileen Waldron could have worked with the mentally ill all day then come home to a mentally ill husband and raise someone else’s child with issues of his own. An amazing woman. Though she’d left, eventually. Perhaps she’d had nothing left to give.

  ‘Anyway,’ Paisley continued, ‘I’ve organised for a community nurse to check in on Dad a couple of days a week. That should buy him some more time.’

  ‘Well, that’s something.’

  ‘Best I can do. Dad’s digging his heels in, refusing to leave, and honestly, packing up would be completely beyond him. He’s a hoarder. Not as bad as some of the ones you see on the TV but he’s got fifty years of stuff in piles around the place—rubbish everywhere.’ She chewed on a fingernail, thinking. ‘I might have to try and get down there a bit more regularly to tackle it. I’ll need the money from the house to fund his care so it’s going to have to be done. Otherwise no one will ever buy the place.’

  ‘If it’s as lovely as you say it is, surely someone will see past a bit of mess?’

  A hint of wistfulness touched Paisley’s expression. ‘A huge old home on acres, right on the River Derwent. Completely buried in junk as old as it is. Tell you what,’ she said brightly, ‘why don’t you buy it as an investment property?’

  ‘Ha. No. Sorry.’

  ‘It’d make a gorgeous bed and breakfast. If we clear away a foot or two of mess in the kitchen we might even find some of the original pots and pans.’

  ‘As much fun as that sounds,’ Callie replied, ‘I’ve already got my hands full. And speaking of—you’d better look at this catalogue before Dale realises you’re back.’

  ‘Can do,’ Paisley said, spinning her chair back around to the monitor. ‘I’ve also got to go over the new artwork for it with Dale. I sent some ideas across before I left last week but I bet he hasn’t looked at them.’