Part 3
Amy approached the man sitting at a secluded table of the public bar, praying that her injuries wouldn't tip him off that she was anymore than just a simple bargirl. "Would you like anything?"
The man hastily finished his phone conversation, looking up to Amy with a slightly alarmed glint in his eyes. He shrugged, sitting the phone on the table before him. "Ah, yeah, a bottle of coke would be nice," he mumbled, feigning a smile.
She did her best to return the gesture and headed for the fridge behind the bar, retrieving a bottle from it. Chris narrowed her eyes, looking at Amy in confusion.
"What are you doing?" she asked, shaking her head in puzzlement.
Amy looked to Chris pointedly, twisting her grip on the bottle slightly. "I think he might be involved in the drug shipment PJ's investigating."
Chris chuckled in disbelief at this. "Sounds like something Joss would come up with."
Amy leant in closer, lowering her voice to scarcely louder than a whisper. "How many men in suits do you see in Mt. Thomas?" she demanded, casting constant sideways glances at the man sitting at the table, drumming his fingers on the table in impatience. "My gut's telling me that he could be involved…I just need to look into it, okay?"
"Okay," Chris replied reluctantly, forcing a teasing smile, "but if this guy's not involved, I don't want to be losing any business."
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Alex climbed into the unmarked police car beside Susie, looking over to her with a broad smile on his face. The blonde sitting beside him, eyes fixed on the shed through the binoculars, didn't return the gesture.
"Can't say that this is my idea of a perfect night," he remarked, looking at Susie, his broad smile becoming quite tentative. "You'd wonder why PJ couldn't do this himself."
Susie didn't lower the binoculars, instead choosing not to respond to Alex's attempts to make her open up. He was always doing that, trying to bring out a bubbly and bright Susie Raynor that she was afraid didn't exist anymore. Unintentionally, she'd become someone she'd once vowed she'd never be – the bitter, cold copper who existed only for the job.
Alex rose a startled eyebrow at Susie's silence and sat back in his seat, the cool evening breeze seeping in through the barely-opened window. "This is going to be a long night," he lamented in a voice that was barely more than a mumble, looking away out into the darkness beyond the window on his side of the car. Susie just hadn't been the same since Jonesy left.
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Amy shuffled away from PJ awkwardly as she grabbed another crinkle-cut chip from the open packet lying askew on the coffee table in front of the couch, the TV in front of them barely audible as it cast a warm glow around the room.
"So," PJ asked, as Amy bit down hard on the chip in her mouth, "how was bar duty?"
She shrugged, curling up in the corner of the couch, almost as if she was trying to distance herself from PJ as much as possible. As much as she understood Chris' reasoning for why he didn't want her at work, she still didn't like it.
"Alright, I suppose," she mumbled in response, shrugging again, "I'm looking into some mystery guest Chris has got staying at the pub."
"Mystery guests?" PJ queried, his eyes widening in disbelief. "I can't believe you're lowering yourself to that standard."
Amy climbed to her feet, straightening her old blue pyjamas as she did so. "Well, you won't let me do much else," she told him firmly, "I'm going to bed, night PJ."
PJ looked up at her with shining eyes as she dragged herself off down the hallway towards her bedroom, noticing sadly how she failed to kiss him in farewell as she might normally have. Instead, she gave the arm of the couch a soft pat as she padded off barefoot to her room, closing the door behind her.
He let his head sink forward into his hands, rubbing his tired eyes desperately. It seemed that no matter what he did, he couldn't get it right. He just wanted to show her that he cared and he couldn't even do that properly.
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PJ slipped into the back seat of the unmarked police car, causing Susie and Alex to stir awake in surprise. He narrowed his gaze as he regarded the pair, Susie combing messy hair back from her eyes quickly and Alex yawning loudly, his arms stretched out above his head.
"Not sleeping on the job, are you?" he asked with false disapproval dripping in his tones.
"Of course not," Alex lied with a nervous laugh, shifting himself around in the driver's seat. "So sometime today, huh?"
The detective sitting in the back seat leant forward, nodding in reply as Susie turned herself around next to Alex. "According to my informant, yeah," he answered, rubbing his eyes tiredly, "Kelly and Joss will be out soon to help out and I've got backup coming from St. Davids a little later."
Susie nodded in response to this, but Alex had other things on his mind. His eyes glinted cheekily as he noticed the faint bags under PJ's eyes. "You look a little tired, mate," he pointed out with a cheeky smile, "you and Amy up late last night?"
PJ narrowed his eyes critically at Alex, trying to think up a good answer to this. Long gone were the days when he was actually very adept at hiding relationships from colleagues. He'd long since realised that there was no real point. But he wasn't telling Alex Kirby now, anyway. "Nah, just couldn't get to sleep," PJ explained. It wasn't really a lie. He couldn't get to sleep last night, trying to deal with Amy's anger over his protectiveness of her. "You two can have a break soon anyway," he continued, opening the car door and climbing out, "as soon as Kelly and Joss get here."
As soon as PJ had closed the car door behind him, Alex looked over to Susie, eyebrows raised. "How much do you wanna bet that PJ's hiding something from us about Amy?"
Susie shrugged, almost uncaringly, as she sat back in her seat, rubbing her weary eyes. "None of our business what they get up to, Alex," she told him firmly, causing his upbeat expression to plummet instantly. Deep down she agreed with Alex, she had known PJ too long to not know when he really cared about someone, but she also knew about Amy's past. Not to mention Maggie and Jo. Anything that happened between PJ and Amy would be slow and would benefit from some discretion at the moment.
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Amy invited herself behind the bar of the Imperial Hotel, absentmindedly combing her hair over her neck injury as she did so. Chris looked up from the breakfast she was serving what appeared to be a honeymooning couple and approached her.
"No luck with PJ, then?" she asked sympathetically. Amy shook her head, leaning side-on against the bar.
"He doesn't get it," she explained sadly. "I like how he understands me and cares about me, but I just want him to back off."
Chris leant against the bar opposite Amy, short red ringlets falling over her forehead. "You should talk to him," she suggested with a shrug, "he thinks the world of you. You've just got to let him know what you're feeling."
Amy let a bitter chuckle escape her. Her eyes were shining with what could be the beginning of tears. "How am I meant to tell him what I'm feeling when I've got no bloody idea myself?!"
Chris nodded sympathetically, reaching over to offer Amy a hug. The detective accepted awkwardly. Hugging Chris Riley was never the easy, warm sort of hug that PJ could give her. "You'll work it out," Chris soothed, rubbing Amy's back. Amy just let herself hang in Chris' arms momentarily, quite unsure of what to do.
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Finally, the mysterious suited man emerged into the public bar, talking in a hushed, yet very animated tone, to someone on the other end of his mobile phone call. Amy broke away from the publican, fixing the man with a curious stare. Today was the day of the marijuana shipment. No wonder he was stressed.
Amy glanced sideways at Chris quickly before heading over to the stairs. "I'm going upstairs," she announced, the words enough to tell Chris exactly what she was doing. The publican let her head hang back in frustration before she looked over to the suited man worriedly. He didn't seem to have noticed Amy's disappearance yet. And if Amy was right about him, hopefully he never would.
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PJ lowered the binoculars from his eyes, closing them as he let himself sink back into the driver's seat of the CI car. Mark sat beside him, fixing the shed with an intent stare as if something may happen if he looked away for only a moment.
The sound of a car muffler recaptured PJ's wavering attention and he returned the binoculars to his eyes, watching in curiosity as a man in his mid-thirties climbed out of the car and approached the shed, looking around in impatience and mumbling something to himself. He pulled out his mobile and began to talk.
"That's our guy," PJ announced as he near threw the binoculars onto the dashboard and jumped from the car, retrieving his gun from his belt. Back in the CI car, Mark grabbed the radio, presumably to alert the others to this situation. The suited man with the mobile phone mumbled something about pigs before raising his hands above his head, tossing the mobile to the ground and kicking it away. PJ was stunned that he surrendered so easily, only to hear the shouts of his other colleagues as they emerged from the surrounding bushland, guns drawn and aimed. "Too easy," PJ mumbled to himself, returning his gun to his belt as he watched Alex and Joss put the man under arrest. But something was beginning to bite at him. Who was on the other end of the phone?
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Amy closed the suited man's Imperial room door behind her, before looking around in bewilderment. It looked very ordinary, with a suitcase packed in the corner. She quickly scampered across the room, opening the surprisingly unlocked suitcase, only to reveal what looked like a pile of clothes.
She sighed to herself in disappointment – she'd really hoped that there'd be something there – before shoving the suits and pyjamas aside to reveal a large bag. She lifted it up to inspect the contents. She'd been in the job for long enough to know just what this was. Marijuana.
Suddenly, she could feel cold metal at the back of her head, sending shivers down her spine and goose bumps along her arms and legs. Her whole body froze, not even daring to breath. She closed her eyes tightly, praying that it wasn't who she thought it was.
"Bargirl," the suited man behind her sniggered, tightening his grip on his weapon, "nice try, detective."