'FREEZE!' the cop yelled. 'DON'T FUCKING MOVE!'
India's hands shot into the air. 'Okay, okay, it's okay.' Her breathing was uneven, her voice jerky. 'It's okay, I'm not armed, I'm -'
'TURN AROUND!' he screamed. 'HANDS ON THE COUNTER!'
She turned, put her hands on the counter. Felt a barrel of cold steel pressed hard against her neck.
'One move and I blow your head off, okay?'
'Okay,' she managed.
He started to pat her down. Shoulders, legs, armpits, flanks. He exhaled noisily several times. Perhaps as a way of collecting himself, regaining some calm. She felt his boot kick her legs wide. More pats. 'I do like a pair of pretty legs spread just so,' he murmured when he had finished. 'Now, hands behind your back.'
She flinched when she felt the cold metal against her skin. He imprisoned her right wrist first, but as he grabbed her left she jerked it free, a bubble of panic forming in her breast. 'It's too tight,' she gasped.
|
'They're new.' He gave a rasping chuckle. 'They'll stretch some after a little wear.'
He grabbed her left wrist and still she struggled. India tried to breathe deeply, to halt the panic, but she couldn't allow herself to be handcuffed, she couldn't . . .
Click.
She went quite still. Fear sat in her stomach like a big black bat.
'You're just like a mare I've got,' he remarked. 'All fidgety at taking the bit. She settles down after a couple of minutes though.'
He gave her a little tug. She turned around, looked at him straight. He had eyes the colour of dirty ice and a face like boiled beetroot. His nose looked as though it had been broken a few times and his hands were ridged with scars. She found herself staring at his shirt, and a piece of what looked like egg yolk there.
'Name?' he demanded.
|
I was mulling over various ideas for this book when I saw an article on the 'stolen generation', where during the 1950's over 100,000 Aboriginal children were forcibly taken from their families and adopted by whites. Some these kids, now adults in their forties and fifties, still haven't been reunited with their families. Immediately, I wondered what would happen if a whole Aboriginal family went missing today? Who would take up their cause if it wasn't a relative? Any why?
These initial questions quickly became the basis of the book, where reporter India Kane is trying to trace her family roots and ends up being accused of her best friend's murder. In a dusty outback town she's never seen before, India is faced with not only proving her innocence, but seeing justice done.
|
