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Chapter One

A bigail Mulholland no longer expected her husband to open the taxi door for her, but it was still disappointing when Spencer completely ignored her. She wriggled out the back seat, clutched her Jimmy Choo handbag under one arm and, juggling her five-inch heels on the broken pavement, raced into the airport terminal. The air-conditioning was instant relief from the sticky heat outside.

Through the windows, Spencer transferred the heavy suitcases from taxi to trolley with an agility that belied his age, and as the car drove away, he pushed the luggage toward the doorway. Her daughter, Krystal, slinked after him, oblivious to everything but her phone.

A halo of flies followed Spencer through the door, but he paused, swatting at the relentless insects to examine his reflection. It was an obsession he couldn’t resist. He stopped the instant he saw Abigail watching him and raced toward the lone check-in counter.

Abigail hooked her arm through her daughter’s elbow. “I’m going to miss you.”

“So don’t go.” Purple chewing gum danced around her tongue.

“Your father wants me to go with him.” Abigail’s heart wrenched as Krystal pulled back.

“Yeah, right? You begged him to take you.” Krystal’s eyes were a baffling mix of defiance and longing. “You’re going to hate every minute.”

Somehow, Krystal’s spiteful rejections still stung. “Well, I think I’ll love it.” She forced a confident smile.

Krystal scowled, then skipped to her father and wrapped her arm around his waist. Spencer handed over his wallet and when Krystal removed a wad of cash, Abigail sighed.

Beyond the check-in desk, a small plane was on the tarmac. Her stomach lurched.

That can’t be our plane!

As she probed the tiny departures board for Kakadu, a sense of foreboding gripped her.

Oh God, it is our plane!

Abigail’s head swam. If only she hadn’t found that letter hidden in Spencer’s diary.

If only the secret note hadn’t driven her to insist on going on this trip.

What was I thinking?

Spencer appeared at her side, and she launched into him. “I can’t get on that plane. Look how small it is. It has propellers, for God’s sake.” She hated that she sounded almost hysterical.

He clicked his tongue. “It’s all part of the adventure. Besides, that’s not small. When I went to the Amazon, I boarded …”

Abigail tuned him out. The hidden note proved Spencer sometimes lied about his worldly adventures. Watching him now, blustering his bravado, she wondered how many times he’d manipulated his friends into covering for him.

She turned back to the plane and cringed at the quad-bladed propellers that hung off each wing. The plane’s long red nose resembled the tip of a rocket, and five small windows indicated a handful of passengers at best.

A burning sensation crawled up her neck as she imagined peering out like a trapped animal.

A gust of wind shoved the glass door of the boarding gate inward, and she stepped aside as hot air howled through the gap. Two men stood at the nose of the plane, their angry expressions and aggressive hand movements sure signs they were arguing. The door pushed open a little more, and their yelling drifted to her.

“Fix it … Bullshit ... I told you. ”

She glanced around to see if anyone else was watching. But Spencer was gone, and the airport was practically empty. She felt so alone. Nothing new there, though. She moved closer to the door, resigned to curiosity.

“No, you don’t … The package is in … It’s buggered.”

Their hand movements became more aggressive. The argument escalated and looked like they were about to get physical.

Her heart thundered as the fight unfolded.

One man threw his hands in the air and marched away from the plane, straight toward Abigail. She jumped back when he thrust through the glass door. He stormed past her, cursing to himself with his yellow vest flapping wildly at his sides.

That can’t be good. She scanned the airport again for her husband.

Spencer was walking back from the one and only retail outlet. Beside him, Krystal grinned with a new shopping bag swinging on her arm.

“Spencer!” Abigail waved him over. She tried to keep an eye on the man who’d strode past her, but Spencer took so long approaching that he was already gone. The other man was still under the plane.

“They were fighting!” She blurted the words the second Spencer was within reach.

“Who?” Did he have to sound so patronising?

“Two men. Near the plane. Then one of them raced through here. I think there’s something wrong with the plane.”

Rolling his eyes, he tutted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. I heard them.”

“And? What did they say?”

“I only heard some of?—”

“Of course you did. You’re just making something out of nothing, as usual. So, stop being silly. We’ll be boarding soon.” Spencer turned on his heel and strode away.

Feeling utter hopelessness, Abigail spun back to the plane. Her stomach tightened as she replayed what she’d seen. Maybe she was making too much of it. But she couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong.

And , as usual, Spencer wasn’t listening to her.

She turned to see him hugging Tina, his personal assistant .

Damn it. Now I’ll have no hope of pursuing my worries with him.

Spencer’s decision to have Tina along to escort their daughter home was infuriating. They all knew her accompanying them on this trip wasn’t the only reason the young woman had flown thousands of kilometres to be there.

Tina always made Abigail’s blood boil. She was immaculately dressed in a tailored suit that clung to her hourglass figure but still barely contained her bulging breasts. She waved her red fingernails with a look of guilty satisfaction that Abigail despised. Tina kissed Spencer’s cheek and her silky hair spilled over her shoulder.

Krystal’s squeal echoed about the sparsely furnished airport. She embraced Tina, and the pair of them twirled around, laughing. Abigail wished she could be happy for them but seeing her daughter with Tina like that inspired nothing but resentment. Holding her chin up, she walked toward them.

“Hello, Tina.” She didn’t even try to mask the contempt in her voice.

“Hello, Abigail.” Tina released Krystal. “Are you ready for your big trip?”

“Absolutely. Are you ready to look after a fifteen-year-old girl for a week?”

“Of course. It’ll be fun.”

Abigail rolled her eyes at Spencer.

“Tina’s taking me shopping every day.” Krystal hugged Tina’s slender waist and glared at her mother.

Abigail couldn’t remember the last time her daughter had wanted to go shopping with her. Or do anything else, for that matter. Abigail cast the hurt aside. “Well, don’t spend too much money?—”

“If you weren’t deserting me, I wouldn’t need to shop.” Krystal’s voice dripped poison. “So don’t be such a bitch .”

Abigail forced a reply through clenched teeth. “Don’t talk to me like?—”

“Come on, girls.” Spencer stepped between them. “We’ve had a pleasant couple of days together. Let’s not spoil it before we say goodbye.” He wrapped his arms around their shoulders and forced them together. “Now give each other a hug. ”

With obvious reluctance, Krystal embraced her, but quickly pushed away.

“Be good,” Abigail whispered.

Spencer clapped his hands together like a teacher’s cane cracking on a naughty student’s desk, and Abigail jumped. “Good girls. It’s time to go.” He reached for his suitcase, kissed Krystal on her forehead, then strode away.

Abigail clutched her handbag and turned to Spencer’s assistant. “Goodbye, Tina. Enjoy.” Without a response, she lugged her bulging suitcase toward the glass door.

Spencer held the door ajar, and she stepped past him to navigate the avenue of witches hats leading to the plane. Wind whistled in her ears and the heatwave distorted her surroundings.

Her stomach squeezed tighter as a pack of wild dogs raced along the chain-link fence in the distance, kicking up a red dust cloud behind them. The small, white plane was barely a speck against the vast red panorama beyond.

It made the isolation seem even greater.

A man in a yellow vest stepped into focus. He waited at the nose of the plane. Everything around her vanished into obscurity as she searched his face for a sign that something was wrong.

But there was nothing.

His smile seemed pleasant, and he looked relaxed. And when he spoke, his voice was devoid of nervousness. She handed her case to him, and his yellow vest flapped open as he gathered the bag like it was a small child and pitched it into the luggage hold with careless disregard.

“Hey, careful with that!” she scowled.

“Sorry, ma’am.” He didn’t sound sorry.

“It’s okay, mate.” Spencer placed his hand on the man’s shoulder like they were lifetime friends. If it had been Spencer’s case. . .

Abigail clenched her teeth, fighting the urge to point out that it definitely wasn’t okay. In fact, nothing seemed okay. She turned her back on them and reached for the railing. With each step she climbed, dread sank heavier in her stomach.

At the plane’s doorway, she glanced to her left. Uluru dominated the horizon; large, red, and proud. They’d explored the giant rock thoroughly over the last two days .

Spencer and Krystal had loved the trekking, but Abigail had been repulsed by the ghastly experience. They’d paid a fortune to stay in glorified tents, poorly serviced ones at that. The food had been practically inedible, too. Worst of all, though, no amount of money could remove the relentless insects or the oppressive heat.

She was truly relieved this part of the journey was over. Despite that, she couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that the worst was yet to come.

Abigail entered the plane, and a young milky-skinned woman stared at her from the front seat, twirling a cranberry-coloured dreadlock as thick as a Cuban cigar. Abigail ignored her as she chose a seat near the open door.

But even with that open space, the cabin still closed in on her. Spencer would take pleasure in her fear, and he’d repeatedly told her she’d hate this part of the trip. Although she suspected he was right, she couldn’t back down from what she’d started.

I need to calm down. She reached into her handbag, removed a tissue, and cringed as she wiped greasy finger smudges off the window.

Spencer ducked his head as he entered the plane with a radiant smile. Full lips framed his flawless teeth and matching dimples punctuated his cheeks.

The young woman already seated offered her hand. “Hi, I’m Toni.”

“Spencer Mulholland, pleased to meet you.” He nodded his head in Abigail’s direction and lowered his voice, pretending to ensure she couldn’t hear. “Don’t worry about her . She’s not accustomed to flying.”

He stepped past Toni towards the back of the plane where an older-looking man sat in the rearmost seat.

Another woman entered the cabin. She had furrowed brows and looked preoccupied as she fell into the seat opposite Abigail.

Spencer examined the new passenger, and Abigail’s heart sank at the visible approval in his eyes. “Hello, I’m Spencer. Beautiful day, isn’t it?” His voice was loaded with suggestive charm.

She looked up at him. “If you say so. I’m Madonna.” Her smile seemed forced.

“Oh, dear.” Spencer was the master at displaying sincerity. . . especially to beautiful women. “Had an unpleasant morning, did you?”

“Let’s just say I had other plans for Easter.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll have a great time.” Spencer turned and sneered at Abigail. His piercing eyes and thunderous expression said everything. He might have at least allowed her the window. However, it was obvious she wouldn’t be afforded the same generosity Spencer gave his usual adventure-buddies.

Forcing down her disappointment and ignoring the familiar bristle of irritation, Abigail shuffled over, trying to ignore Toni’s amused grin as Spencer sat in the window seat.

Through the doorway, a tall, rangy man in faded jeans strode across the tarmac. The polished tips of what looked like crocodile skin boots flashed rhythmically in the sun.

He stepped through the door and her heart pounded as she stared at the tendrils of a black tattoo that snaked up his thick neck and licked his diamond-studded earlobe.

Oh my God! He’s the other man who’d been arguing under the plane. The one who’d stormed off.

“Good morning, folks.” His voice was a tortured baritone. “My name is Dave Wilkinson, and I have the pleasure of being both your pilot and tour guide for the coming week. We’re waiting for three more passengers, then we’ll be on our way. Make yourselves comfortable.” He turned and bounded down the steps like a ten-year-old gymnast.

Abigail whispered in Spencer’s ear. “Oh my God, Spencer. He’s one of the guys I saw arguing by the plane. Do you still think it’s safe?”

“Of course it is. Don’t be ridiculous.” His look of scorn hurt more than she cared to admit.

Fighting a powerful urge to run, Abigail removed an emery board from her bag and filed her nails to distract herself. Two more men walked toward the plane. The taller man had honey-blonde hair and Lennon-like sunglasses, and a frown that pulled his eyebrows into a straight line.

The other man’s slicked back hair glistened in the sun, and his olive skin and almond-shaped eyes indicated mixed cultures. He moved with athletic comfort, and flashed very white, even teeth when he laughed.

The blonde-haired man stepped into the cabin first and when his friend joined him, they moved to the seats behind Abigail. They chattered continuously but stopped as a hulking copper-haired man sidled through the entranceway, holding a bulky TV camera in front of him. Madonna groaned when the newcomer scratched at his groin .

Abigail nudged Spencer and rolled her eyes toward the redhead.

The big man paused. Madonna looked up at him with hatred in her eyes. “My day just gets better and better.” Her voice was loaded with sarcasm. “What the hell happened to Adam?”

“Looks like he and Kimba were sharing more than coverage. They’re both chucking their guts up. You and me are gonna be stuck together for a whole week, baby. Get used to it.”

“Just do your job and it’ll be fine. And don’t call me baby.”

“Sure thing— boss .” The word leered off his tongue, resentful as much as suggestive.

“Shut up and get ready. We’ll do a report along the way.”

Each time the redhead took a step, the plane groaned under his weight. At the back, he flopped into the last spot and plonked the camera between his legs.

Abigail felt sorry for the old man beside him—his body literally spilled out the sides of the seat.

A sharp noise at the front of the plane made Abigail jump.

Spencer chuckled. “It’s just the baggage door closing.”

She glared at him. His sadistic grin showed he enjoyed her discomfort.

The pilot reclaimed her attention, hauling the stairs up into the cabin. “Hello folks, my name’s Dave Wilkinson, and I’m your pilot and guide. The Kakadu gods have blessed us with clear skies and mild winds, and we should have a pleasant flight before we land in beautiful Kakadu National Park. But first, as we’ll be together for the next five days, how about we all introduce ourselves? Let’s start with you, Toni.”

The girl flicked a dreadlock and twisted around to the rest of the passengers. “Hi, I’m Toni. I’m studying to be a park ranger.” She waved a delicate hand, then gestured to Madonna in the seat behind her.

“My name is Madonna. I’m a travel reporter for ‘Going Places’.”

The giant redhead butted in. “Yeah, and I’m Tom, the unlucky bastard chosen to be the shark’s cameraman.”

Madonna flashed her middle finger at him.

Abigail stared at the reporter. Maybe this trip won’t be boring after all.

The older man cleared his throat, cutting into the momentary silence. “I’m Charlie, and I’m hoping to find a plant which could be Australia’s contribution to the antioxidant phenomenon.” He buzzed with wide-eyed excitement and peered at his audience as if expecting them to ask questions. After five seconds of silence, he nodded at the two men in front of him.

The dark-haired man spoke. “Hi everyone, I’m Mackenzie and this is Rodney, and this trip has been on our ‘must-do’ list for several years.”

After a moment, Dave gestured to Spencer.

“I’m Spencer Mulholland, and this is my wife. Abigail.” He managed to make her name sound like an afterthought.

“Right then.” David rubbed his hands together. “Welcome, everybody. Keep your seat belts buckled, sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.” He turned and jumped into the pilot’s seat.

Abigail clutched her chest. “Where’s the safety briefing?” Her throat was so dry she could barely speak.

“I think that was it.” Spencer chuckled, obviously relishing her expression.

Abigail tugged her seatbelt across her waist, and the men behind her resumed their idle banter as if everything was just fine. Another loud bang made her jump. Peering over Spencer’s shoulder, a cloud of black smoke was sliced by the rotating propeller as it picked up speed.

Dave said something in the cockpit, and the engine noise rose to a deafening roar. The cabin shuddered, and the aircraft accelerated along the tarmac.

Abigail dug her nails into the seat as the distant tree line rapidly approached. As she readied to scream, they gracefully lifted off the ground and just cleared the trees.

Spencer peered down his nose at her. “No vomit bags, I noticed, so go steady.”

Several minutes later, the intercom crackled to life. “Ladies and gentlemen. I hope you’re all settled back there. Let me give you a bit about my background. I purchased this little beauty from the Royal Flying Doctors Service in 2002. She’s saved many lives in her time, including mine. I personally oversaw her refurbishment, including the plush leather seats you’re enjoying, and that toilet back there. We’re scheduled to cross the southern border of Kakadu around four o’clock, so kick back and enjoy the ride. Oh, and by the way, today’s in-flight entertainment will be my bad jokes.” The pilot cackled.

Abigail massaged moisturiser into her hands and glanced at Madonna. The reporter’s hair was a delicate blend of caramel and blonde, and her beige shoes perfectly matched her suit. Abigail would need to keep an eye on Spencer with this woman around.

Spencer settled back and closed his eyes. Even though his once-dark hair was now solid gun-metal grey, he was still very handsome for his age. His goatee was speckled with white, and a lifetime of laughter had produced a scattering of wrinkles.

Women of all ages threw themselves at him, and he was often there to catch them.

Several of her friends were having long-running affairs with him, she was certain of that. But despite it all, she was lucky.

She knew women who had divorced, and having witnessed the demise of their lives, there was no way she was going to be the ex-Mrs Mulholland.

The gentle hum of the plane eased her apprehension slightly, yet she couldn’t stop the unfounded trepidation crawling through her veins.