LITMIR.BIZ

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his vehicle and take off immediately. He looked around the spacious farmhouse kitchen with its timber cupboards, cream walls and large wooden table and chairs. It spoke of solidity and security, but Ewan's death had made them all realise that physical security could be an illusion.

      'He'd like that.' Alice placed a plate of sausages, eggs and tomatoes in front of her son. Her face grew wistful. 'You two haven't been together since Ewan's funeral.'

      'We keep in touch.' Rogan picked at his food with his fork, then seeing his mother's frown, began to eat. He knew his mother must have come back early from helping his father with the milking so she could cook breakfast for him. Alice and Duncan McKay had raised five sons and two daughters, and no matter what else the family may have lacked in assets, there had never been a shortage of food on the table.

      Alice smiled fondly at Rogan. 'The connection's still there, isn't it.' She poured tea into two mugs and sat opposite him at the table. 'Even when you were just toddlers you didn't need to talk, you always acted like you could read each other's minds. And it didn't matter how far apart you were, one always cried if the other got hurt.'

      He'd heard his mother talk about this before, but now he felt guilt shaft through him. How could he tell her that he feared Liam was more than hurt, that he might be dead? How else could he explain the deep, aching, emptiness in his soul?

      'I'll leave after breakfast,' he said between mouthfuls.

      'So soon?' His mother frowned. 'Your father will be disappointed. He was hoping … Never mind.'

      'Hoping what, Mum?' Rogan was surprised to see colour rise in his mother's cheeks.

      'Well …' Alice seemed a little flustered, 'last night he mentioned us going down to the coast for a day or two. He thought you might take over the milking. Meryl said she'd give you a hand.'

      'Dad? The Gold Coast? I thought he hated the crowds and the traffic.'

      Alice sipped her tea before replying. 'He thought a few days away might be a nice fortieth wedding anniversary present.'

      Thick bastard, McKay, Rogan berated himself. His younger sister had reminded him of the occasion, but last night's trauma had wiped it from his mind. 'Sorry, Mum. Can it wait until I get back? The repairs to the boat engine will take at least ten days, and I'll be back before then.'

      'Of course, dear. But you'd better go and tell your father now, before he makes any plans.'

      Lush green fields sloped gently alongside the road before reaching the edge of the plateau and tumbling into the Numinbah Valley below. They provided rich feed for the dairy cattle on the small farms between Beechmont and Binna Burra on the hinterland behind Queensland's famous Gold Coast.

      Rogan left the sprawling old farmhouse with its white-painted weatherboards and brown-framed windows like eyes on a sleepy labrador, and walked to where the mountain began its descent. He looked across to another mountain range rearing its craggy peaks into the blue, then up the valley to where, in the far distance, high-rise buildings dotted the narrow coastal strip and the ocean shimmered in the sunlight.

      He breathed in deeply. The air, so crisp and clean, almost sweet in comparison to the salt tang of the ocean, was balm to his troubled spirit. He rammed clenched fists into his jeans' pockets. It was always like this when he was at home - this tearing at his guts, this yearning for the limitless expanse of blue-green sea against the almost primal urge to dig himself into the fertile earth and put down roots to connect himself to this land he loved equally well. Happy in each world, but always longing for the other, he realised. He had always been a very physical person, expressing his love for his family by deeds rather than words, but sometimes, when he felt almost overwhelmed by the beauty of nature, he longed to be able to create poetry that could express what he felt. He smiled. His old navy mates would have been shocked beyond belief if he'd told them that.

      Liam was the words man. His mirror image. The quiet, thoughtful balance to Rogan's extrovert nature. The ache deepened when he thought again of his twin. Sheer exhaustion had granted Rogan some sleep in the remaining hours before dawn, but the emptiness, the desolation, had still been there when he awoke.

      He looked across the paddock. Friesian and Illawarra cows were milling about in the holding yard near the milking shed. His father would be almost finished now, and Rogan felt a pang of guilt that he couldn't stay and give his parents the break they so badly needed. He hurried into the wooden shed where stainless steel vats were slowly being filled through the plastic hoses connected to the milking machines. The cadence of well-maintained machinery echoed in the small room. He took off his sneakers, and pulled on a pair of rubber boots.

      As Rogan walked through to the milking bays, Duncan McKay glanced up from attaching teat cups onto a cow's udder, and smiled. The tiredness in his eyes notched Rogan's guilt up further. Cows were still waiting in the remaining three bays, with two still standing patiently outside in the yard. Rogan picked up the chain attached to the nearest bay and secured it across the cow's rear to keep her there, then roped the outer rear leg to prevent her kicking. Rain the previous afternoon had muddied the ground, and the smell of warm manure had attracted numerous flies. Rogan brushed them away as he propped himself on a small stool and dipped each teat into a disinfectant mix, cleaned it with paper towelling, then shoved the teat cup on.

      He reached over and tipped feed and supplement into a tin near the cow's head to keep the animal calm during the milking process, slipping effortlessly into the routine he'd known since childhood. Soon the last cow was ambling through into the holding yard.

      'Thanks for the help, son,' Duncan said as he began to clean the machines to get them ready for sterilising.

      Before he could say any more Rogan spoke quickly. 'I'm leaving this morning for Melbourne, Dad. Going to see Liam. When I get back I'll take over for a few days and give you and Mum a break.'

      Duncan pushed dark brown hair streaked with grey from his forehead and stretched the kinks from his back. 'Thanks, son. Your mother needs to get away for a while.'

      As he watched the tired slump of his father's shoulders, Rogan prayed that what he had experienced last night would turn out to be just a bad dream.

      But the hollow feeling in his heart betrayed that hope.

      An hour later Rogan drove into Beechmont village. He turned into the yard of a small log cabin and switched off the engine of his fawn four-wheel drive dual-cab Rodeo. Before he could get out, a young woman with breasts a little large for her slim body opened the front door of the house, walked up to the driver's window and leaned her forearms against the opening.

      Rogan could never understand why his sister-in-law had resorted to such an extreme idea as breast implants in an effort to keep Ewan faithful. Childhood sweethearts, Meryl and Ewan had married as soon as they turned eighteen. The next year Ewan had joined the navy. Self-indulgent to the core, he had only ever been faithful to his goal of acquiring whatever he wanted no matter what the methods. A trait that had lead to his murder at the hands of a violent criminal.

      An aspiring actress and part-time make-up artist, Meryl had dyed her hair an attractive shade of honey to suit the minor character she was portraying in a movie.

      'Didn't expect to see you today, Rogan,' she smiled. 'Thought I'd have to go into work, but there's been a technical hitch and they don't need me until tomorrow.'

      Rogan quickly explained about his concern for Liam and that he was on his way to Melbourne. 'It's just a precaution, Meryl, but if something's happened to Liam, I'd appreciate you being here for Mum and Dad.'

      A few minutes later Meryl watched as Rogan continued his drive down the winding mountain road. In the past few days she'd wondered if she'd fallen in love with the wrong brother. Then she smiled. No, Rogan would always be her friend, but she knew that was all there would ever be between them.

      She had noticed a change in Rogan after he'd left the navy, and she wondered if anyone would be able to penetrate the emotional wall he appeared to have built around himself. His love for his family and concern for his friends were obvious, and although he had previously had a couple of serious girlfriends, in the past

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