Embers And Echoes

By Daniel De Lorne

Blue lights in the red dust...

Echo Springs on the edge of the outback – a town where everyone knows your name, and your business. But the wholesome country living and welcoming community aren't what they used to be. Echo Springs has a dark underbelly, and it is seeping ever outward.

A suspicious fire on the edge of town sets Constable Ben Fields on a collision course with firefighter and one–time friend Toby Grimshaw. When the investigation takes a troubling turn that calls the two professionals' integrity into question, the heat gets turned up on Ben and Toby's unresolved history. Ben's got something to prove, but his love for Toby could cost him – and Echo Springs – everything. Meanwhile, will Toby overcome the horrors of his past and find a new future with Ben – or will it all go up in flames?

Echo Springs, book 2

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Sep 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781489269249

Daniel De Lorne

Ruin. Romance. Redemption. That's the magic trifecta Daniel de Lorne promises readers of his books. Whether it's irresistible vampires, paranormal paramours, or hot everyday men, Daniel's books go for the heart. And the stomach. And the spleen (just for good measure). In his other life, Daniel is a professional writer and researcher in Perth, Australia, with a love of history and nature. All of which makes for great story fodder. And when he's not working, he and his husband explore as much of this amazing world as they can, from the ruins of Welsh abbeys to trekking famous routes and swimming with whales.   To get to the real heart of the matter, visit Daniel's website.  You can also follow Daniel on: Facebook Instagram Twitter Pinterest 

Book preview

Chapter One

The chalky tang of ash coated the back of Constable Ben Fields’s tongue the moment he stepped out of the four-wheel drive. Attending a fire was not how he’d planned on visiting the cemetery today.

He tried to work saliva into his mouth, but the taste spread. Red dust fell from the car door as he slammed it shut. The Sillitoe Tartan’s blue-and-white had become a dull purple and pinkish-white marred by black flecks. Keeping the thing clean out here was impossible. He slipped his cap over his head, bringing small respite from the heat that trapped him between the midday sun and the scorched earth. At least his aviators kept back the glare.

One small win.

The fire truck—a light tanker—they’d parked beside dwarfed them. As he and Leila walked over, Adrian jumped out of the cab to greet them.

‘Great timing as always guys,’ he laughed, ‘showing up when the danger has passed.’

‘Nice of you to put out the campfire,’ Leila said. ‘Hope you didn’t drown the sausages.’

Adrian’s easy smile vanished. ‘Does that look like a campfire to you?’

He turned away without waiting for a response. Ben scanned the blackened paddock. Nope, definitely not a campfire.

Smoke rose off what had once been grass south of the cemetery. In the distance, a second tanker was parked further up the road and firefighters encased in protective yellow checked over the sodden earth. One missed ember caught on the wind would wreak havoc elsewhere.

Man, he hated bushfire season.

At least the cemetery had been spared. The fire had crept close, sniping at some of the recent graves, but it had been halted before it could engulf it. The wind had been blowing gently south rather than north. A square two hundred metres of the paddock was now charred.

‘Adrian, who’s got the lead?’ he asked, Leila having now gotten him off-side.

He jerked his chin towards the firefighter heading towards them from the field. ‘Toby.’

His gut plunged faster than a diver at the springs. He closed his eyes, pulled off his sunglasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Shit.

When he looked again, Toby-bloody-Grimshaw marched out of the plumes of remnant smoke like the devil rising from the brimstone pits of hell.

Grim by name, grim by nature.

One hand dragged the hose, the other lugged his helmet. Ash flecked his black curls. His coat hung open and heavy, his Echo Springs Fire Department t-shirt clinging damp to his body. He gave them a short, firm nod, his dark, hard eyes meeting Ben’s for a heartbeat before he turned to the truck to help Adrian secure the hose.

Ben swallowed hard. At least Leila didn’t give him a ribbing, probably because she knew what today meant.

They waited in silence and the tendons on the back of Ben’s neck tightened enough to strum. The sooner they discussed the crime, the sooner he could get away from Grim. Almost a whole summer had passed without him being snared in one of Toby’s disapproving, cold looks. Not that he’d tried to avoid him. In fact, Toby had been the one hiding, sticking to the fire station or at home looking after his dad.

The good fireman. The good son.

Ben massaged his neck. Better get this over and done with.

‘Was it deliberately lit?’ he asked, slipping his aviators into his vest pocket.

Toby’s shoulders stiffened then relaxed. ‘Accelerant has been poured in a straight line along the edge of the paddock. I’d say someone was trying to torch the cemetery.’

‘But the wind stopped them?’

He nodded. ‘Lucky for us.’

‘So, we’ve got an arsonist on our hands?’

‘Looks like. I’ll finish up the investigation here, then send the paperwork to you guys. Hopefully you can catch whoever did this before it escalates. They’ve got a taste for it now.’

‘No chance it was an accident?’ Ben’s stomach clenched and it had nothing to do with the taste of ash. He’d already been told the blaze was lit with intent, but being around Toby gave him a case of the stupids. At least Toby did him the favour of not rolling his eyes.

He shook his head. ‘This was deliberate.’

‘Can you show us where you think it started?’

Toby looked from him to Leila and back again. ‘Sure, why not?’

He led them to a definite dark line in the grass. Ben could even smell the remains of the fuel.

‘Footprints? Cast-off matches?’

‘We’ve been busy putting out the fire. I’m hopeful we’ll find something. I don’t think we’re dealing with someone who knew what he was doing. If he’d waited for a stronger wind, we’d have had a bigger problem.’

‘Thank god for stupidity, huh?’

Stop talking!

‘Yeah, it has its benefits,’ Toby said.

Ben’s heart jumped like a creek full of frogs on a full moon.

Toby didn’t say anything more, just looked at him, and for once Ben didn’t feel like he was under some malevolent examination. But whatever the look meant, Toby blinked and the moment passed. Ben’s heart was slower to quit fibrillating.

‘Look, I’d better get back to it. Go find yourself some witnesses. I’ll collect what evidence I can, and give you a call if I need any help.’

Unlikely. Toby never needed anyone’s help, least of all Ben’s. He’d been clear on that long ago, and the few opportunities since then reaffirmed it.

Leila gave him a strained smile. ‘We’ll have a look around here first. If that’s alright with you, Tobias?’

Toby’s eyes narrowed, and Ben wrestled a grin. Too many memories of that name being called out across the back field as Toby’s mother…

Time to get away.

‘Thanks, Toby. We won’t mess anything up. Come on, Leila.’

Toby gave a small nod and headed back to the tanker.

‘He’s such an arse,’ she said when Toby was out of earshot. ‘Nice arse, though.’

‘How can you even tell in that tunic?’

‘Good memory.’

He chuckled despite himself. ‘So classy.’

‘That’s me.’

Tearing his eyes away from Toby’s retreating back, he walked with Leila along the line where the fire started, snapping photos for their investigation. There wasn’t much. No footprints, no dropped matches or rags. Perhaps Toby would find something, but Ben didn’t think it likely. The arsonist might have been an amateur, but he knew enough not to leave evidence.

They searched the cemetery, passing the graves of town founders and the recently departed. Peter and Timnah Hanson—renowned doctors taken too soon and parents of the still-missing Peter Junior—lay not far from the graves of two people who mattered a lot to Ben. But for now he kept his distance.

The graveyard dirt was too dry and cracked to retain shoe-prints. They found nothing leading from the cemetery or the road to the point where the fire had started. Perhaps whoever it was had come from the other side, standing in the paddock, looking towards the cemetery and the town. Either way, the earth gave them no clues.

They walked back to the car. ‘D’you mind if I check those last graves myself?’ he asked.

She gave him a knowing smile. ‘Sure, I’ll start writing up the report.’

‘Thanks.’ He opened the back door and retrieved the bunch of yellow flowers. He scanned the scene for Toby, not really wanting to do this in front of him, but his one-time friend was back in the paddock.

He searched the final sector for evidence, which provided a good excuse for keeping his head down. He didn’t want to see his mother’s grave until he was standing in front of it. The sting of her death had faded years ago, when he stopped dwelling on the how and the why. He’d managed to separate today from that day, until now, when it was just him and a white gravestone. And a nose full of foul smoke.

Ella Susan Fields

Beloved wife and mother.

The grave was untouched. His dad hadn’t been there yet, probably waiting for a cooler part of the day, like Ben himself had intended. He removed the dried twigs of flowers he’d left on her birthday, when, like every year, he’d promised he’d come more often, knowing he wouldn’t. He placed the fresh flowers in the vase at the base of the gravestone. Looking at the chiselled letters and numbers, his eye was drawn to Toby working in the distance beyond. They hadn’t been here together since the day of the funeral.

Funerals. Plural.

He released a long breath. Death was meant to bring people together, wasn’t it?

His attention drifted to his left, to three graves down, where Toby’s mother rested. The two women would have been buried next to each other if not for family plots getting in the way. Perhaps it was enough they’d died together.

While the ones left behind still suffered.

Losing his mother had hit seventeen-year-old Toby the hardest, perhaps because he was there when it happened. Certainly that was the reason Toby became a firefighter, even more of a reason than wanting to follow in his dad’s footsteps and measure up to the big fire chief of Echo Springs. But he had shut Ben out completely, even when he was hurting too… They could have helped each other. Had the kiss they’d shared broken something in him? Was their love-making an act of shame Toby had wanted to blot out? Did Toby think it had been nothing more than a fling?

Every time he went near the springs, he couldn’t help but reminisce. Swimming together after that footy match, hanging around with a few of the guys from the team and relaxing by the springs. Riding a winning high, he’d felt invincible and thought that after years of wondering what it would be like, of whether Toby felt the same, he’d decided to go for it.

Toby had gone with him when he suggested a walk while the rest stayed behind. And then, behind that big tree, he’d stopped and taken Toby’s hand. There was a long pause as Toby looked from his hand to Ben’s face. He’d tried to convey the question without speaking, fearful of being heard, but Toby understood and smiled.

And it had worked out better than he’d imagined.

Only it hadn’t worked out at all.

‘Idiot,’ he muttered to himself, and refocused on the graves.

Roses lay at the base of Mary Grimshaw’s headstone.

He frowned. It couldn’t have been Toby. He hadn’t known he was going to be here—unless he’d come earlier. Or maybe it was Toby’s dad. Strange though that Bob Grimshaw, who didn’t drive, would be out here by himself. Perhaps he’d walked.

Ben went over to the grave, his eyes landing on the set of shoe-prints beside it, heading towards the fire scene. Were they evidence? He lay a measuring tape beside them and took a photo from three angles. Bob’s shoes? Toby’s boots?

He couldn’t leave without finding out, but that meant summoning Toby. No avoiding it; if Toby wanted to give him that contemptuous look, so be it. He had to follow this through.

‘Toby!’ he shouted, waving at him to get his attention.

He trudged over. He probably had to muster the strength to be in the presence of Blind Ben Fields.

‘What’s up?’ he asked. His jaw barely moved.

‘Did you bring these flowers?’

He glowered at them before shaking his head. ‘No, wasn’t me.’

‘So I guess they’re not your prints here and here?’

He pointed to his fire-retardant boots. ‘Too small for mine.’

‘Was your dad here?’

‘Not that I know, but I’ve been out since early this morning. He could have come down.’ He took a few photos of his own.

‘I’ll drop by on the way back to the station and ask him.’

‘Can you wait until I’m there?’ His words shot out. ‘Please? He’s…he’s gotten worse lately.’

‘How so?’

Toby chewed his bottom lip, an action that had Ben biting his own—for entirely different reasons.

Focus!

‘He’s forgetting more, and getting confused. If you guys rock up in that car, I’m worried how he might react. He hasn’t had a cop car outside our house since…’

Neither of them wanted to think about that day, Ben was sure. ‘How long are you going to be?’

Toby crossed his arms across his chest. ‘What’s the hurry? Do you think he’s going to do a runner?’

Toby might have been shorter than him, but a stern look or word could make him feel like a lumbering idiot. ‘What? No. But time is important and—’

‘What are you implying, Ben? That this is somehow my dad’s fault? You think he’s getting around lighting fires, now?’

He rolled his tongue over this bottom lip. ‘I’m not implying anything. These are the only footprints we’ve found that don’t