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‘No problem, Linc.’ Jennifer replied and then turned to Jane. ‘I’m sure things will work out. Linc will get you sorted. If anyone can help, he’ll be able to.’

Linc realised he was still holding Jane’s hand when she replied. It was small and warm, and her fingers had curled around his.

‘Excellent. I really don’t want to have to leave.’

He dropped her hand and gestured for Jane to follow him to the glass-fronted office opposite the customs counter. He paused and dug into his pocket for some coins. ‘Jen, could you grab us a couple of bottles of water from the machine, please. We could be a while.’

Jane followed him across to the office where there were two comfortable sofa chairs and a low table. He gestured to the one facing the terminal and waited for her to sit before he settled into the other chair.

‘Now, tell me exactly what happened. Where were you when you think you lost your documents?’

‘I was sitting in the departure lounge at Brisbane Airport. Do you know the one down on the bottom level where the island flights leave from?’

He nodded. ‘I know where you mean.’

‘I was a bit distracted and I put my bag under the seat when I sat down; I didn’t think to check if anything had fallen out when I left the seat. It must have happened then, because I had the folder when I checked in. I stuck the baggage claim sticker in the side and then I put it in my bag and didn’t take it out again.’

‘Okay. I’m going to give Brisbane Airport a call. Don’t worry, with a bit of luck it will still be under the seat.’

‘Oh, God, I hope so.’ Jane sighed and her lips quivered. Linc couldn’t take his eyes off her pretty mouth. ‘There was two thousand dollars in the folder. I feel so stupid.’

He handed her one of the bottles of water. ‘Here you go. Have a drink and try to relax.’

Half an hour later, Linc was still on hold. He’d been transferred from desk to desk and when he’d finally reached the attendant in the departure lounge he required, the call had dropped out before he could speak. He then had to go through the whole transfer process again. Jane sat there fighting agitation as he made the call again.

He glanced at his watch; it was almost five-thirty. If he didn’t get through soon, that gate would be closed for the night. He’d caught the last flight out of Brisbane often enough to know the times well. The last flight from that gate left at five-forty five.

As he waited on hold, he heard the drone of the island hopper flight coming to a stop outside the terminal; he’d have to catch Johnny on his way in and take a rain check on their drink.

‘Gate Thirty, Andre speaking. How can I help you?’

‘Hello. My name is Lincoln Martin and I’m police chief on Deception Island.’ Linc gave a thumbs up to Jane and her expression brightened as he spoke quickly explaining what he wanted and describing where Jane had told him which seat she’d been in.

‘Just one moment, I’ll go and look.’

Linc turned to Jane. ‘They’re checking now, just cross your fingers the call doesn’t drop out again.’

She grinned at him and crossed the fingers on both hands as she held his gaze. Eventually, he looked away as warmth settled in his chest; he could drown in those eyes.

The door to the tarmac slid open and twenty or so tourists headed into the terminal. Jennifer waited at the customs desk ready for the influx.

‘We’re going to have to wait until the crowd clears now.’ Linc nodded to the group coming through the doors.

‘Are you there?’ Andre’s voice pulled his attention back to the call.

‘I’m here. How did you go?’

‘Yes, all good. The folder was still there under the seat you described. Can you please give me the name of the passport holder? I’ll also need some identification details. Once confirmed, I can fax or email a copy through to you.’

‘Just one moment.’ Linc said. He handed his phone to Jane with a smile. ‘They’ve found it and need some details from you. His name is Andre.’

‘Oh, thank you.’ The sweetest smile lifted her lips. ‘I owe you.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Careful, I might hold you to that.’

‘Hello, Andre. Can I ask first is my money still there? Okay, I understand. You can’t tell me until you have ID. Fair enough.’ As Jane gave her details over the phone, Linc watched the tourists queueing at the customs desk.

‘Yes, fourteenth of August, ’95,’ she said. ‘No. I don’t know the passport number. Yes, I’ll ask him. We won’t get disconnected, will we? Hang on. I’ll get him to use my phone. Linc?’