Sarah. Her name was a prayer. A joyous refrain. A desperate, aching need
What was happening? How had this started?
But he knew how it had started. It had started six long years ago when heâd first fallen in love.
In love.
The words slammed into some dark recess of his brain, registered, shocked.
She was his twinâs fiancée. She was Grantâs love. She had nothing to do with him. She was a part of him that had died along with Grant. A searing pain that could never go away. An impossibility.
And she felt it. He could sense the moment when she tensed and moved back, just a fraction, so she cold see his face. Her eyes resting on his were huge in the shadowed light cast by the table lamp. She looked ethereal.
Sheâd destroyed Grant, he thought desperately. She could well destroy him.
Dear Reader,
The Australian northern coastline is wild and fraught with danger. No one goes there unless they have good reasonâor unless theyâre desperate!
Last year I went on a crocodile spotting expedition at night along one of our northern rivers. I watched the yellow eyes of a crocodile watching me. (Romance writer makes tasty snack?) I gazed out at the dense mangrove swamps (romance writer sinks, never to be seen again?) and thought of all the desperate people whoâd tried to make this place home.
Off I went again. Instead of obliging the crocodile, I retreated to my nice safe office and started The Police Doctorâs Secret.
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did dreaming it up.
Marion Lennox
FORENSIC pathologists werenât supposed to be cute.
Nor were they supposed to be Sarah.
Dr Alistair Benn stared at the crimson and white vision bouncing across the tarmac towards him and felt like leaving town. Now.
Leaving. Ha! As Dolphin Coveâs only doctor, Alistair was responsible for the health of the entire community. As well as that, there were the unknown passengers of a light plane found crashed just south of town. People were missing, and the signs were that they were badly hurt. To leave was impossible.
But Sarahâ¦
Sarah was here?
Heâd requested extra police, trackers and medical back-up. Real help. It hadnât been forthcoming. Thereâd be someone sent from the aviation authority to check the crash site, heâd been told, but a request for additional assistance had been refused. The authorities had decided there was no evidence to justify sending such expensive help.
The decision had left him angry. He couldnât understand why the pilot had died. He was sure the blood in the cargo area wasnât the pilotâs. Heâd asked again, with more force.
And theyâd sent Sarah.
âHi.â She was beaming, as if she was really pleased to see him. That concept was crazyâbut she was certainly beaming. She smiled brightly at him, and then she smiled at the pilot of the plane that had brought her here. She smiled her gorgeous wide smile at the luggage carrier and he smiled right back.
She beamed at everyone and they were all totally trans-fixed.
Well, why wouldnât they be? She was just the same as she always had been. Sarah. Five feet two in her stockinged feet and petite in every aspect.
Sarahâs diminutive appearance had never stopped her making an impact. Her auburn hair floated around her shoulders in a riot of curls. Her perpetually twinkling green eyes were huge. Her rosebud mouth complemented a cute snub nose with just the perfect amount of freckles. She woreâsheâd always wornâshort, short skirts and shiny, frivolous shoes. Gorgeous shoes. The spotted and high-heeled footwear she wore now was bright crimson to match her neat little business suit.
She might be wearing a business suit but she didnât look corporate. Not in the least. She lookedâ¦
She looked like Sarah.
Alistair felt his gut clench in disbelief. And something else. Something he didnât want to examine.
âArenât you going to say hi?â She was grasping his hand as if nothing lay between them. No history at all. Her smile said that maybe they were even old friends. His fingers automatically curved around her small soft hand and then, catching his breath in incredulity that this could possibly be happening, he released her and took an instinctive step back.
âWhat do you think youâre doing here?â As a greeting it needed some finesse, he conceded, but if he was poleaxed he might as well sound poleaxed.
âIâm on the police force. Iâm the forensic pathologist you requested.â She was still smiling. Maybe he was imagining it, but he thought suddenly, Her smile is forced. Sheâs as shocked as I am.
She couldnât be. Sarah was never shocked. She was a woman in charge of her world. She danced through life as if it was hers for the taking, leaving a wave of destruction behind her.
âYouâre supposed to be a paediatrician,â he told herâwhich was also a stupid and definitely ungracious thing to say, but Sarahâs smile stayed determinedly fixed.