by Jane Harper
“Not far now,” he said to Ludlow.
“What were you saying earlier about your brother knowing the grave area well?” The sergeant looked over. “Seems like a strange place to want to spend any time.”
“Uncle Cam painted a picture of it,” Xander said, climbing back in. “He made it famous. For around here, anyway.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Nathan nodded. “He’s only an amateur—was an amateur—but he was pretty good. He kind of got into painting when we were kids. There wasn’t a lot to do for fun, so we did all this weird, old-lady stuff. Stamp-collecting and things. I couldn’t paint for shit, but Cam was all right. He kept doing it, on and off I think, but he did this picture of the stockman’s grave about five years ago.”
One of the seasonal workers at the time had taken a photo of it and put it online when she’d gotten home to France or Canada or wherever she was from. Cameron had suddenly gotten calls from people trying to order prints. Eventually, at the suggestion of his mother, he’d entered the painting in a competition and won a statewide prize.
“You can buy postcards of it at the shop in town,” Nathan said.
“So the grave meant a lot to your brother?” Ludlow said, in a voice that suggested he found that significant.
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” Nathan said. “I think he liked the painting more than the place. He just got lucky one day with the way the light fell.”
“It’s quite strange out there,” Ludlow said. “A grave on its own in the middle of nowhere. I’ve never seen that before.”
“There are a few around here.” Xander leaned forward. “From the old days, when a person died suddenly. They’d get buried on site, and later the family or someone might come along and put a headstone up. There are maps and photos and things online for the tourists.”
“Who would come all the way out here for that?”
Nathan shrugged. “You’d be surprised.”
“They visit the stockman?”
“Sometimes. Used to get a few a year when Cam’s picture was big. Not many now. There’s a more popular one past Atherton.”
“What’s the draw with that one?”
“Sadder, I think. It’s a kid. Little boy. 1900s.”
Ludlow looked unsettled, and Nathan wondered if he had children. “What happened to him?”
“Usual story out here.” Nathan made himself keep his voice even. “Wandered the wrong way and got lost.”
* * *
Out on the road, Nathan overshot the break in the rocks on the first attempt. He swore and reversed, then threaded his four-wheel drive through the hidden gap in the outcrop. On the other side, he looked around in bewilderment. Cameron’s car was nowhere in sight. For a bizarre moment, he thought the car was actually gone. Xander tapped the dusty window.
“We’ve gone too far,” he said, pointing behind them.
Nathan returned to the road and tried again. The correct track was almost identical. He parked in the same spot as Bub had earlier, and they all walked up the slope. At the top, he and Xander hung back while Ludlow put on his gloves. He circled Cameron’s car, taking even more photographs. He paused at the open driver’s door.
Nathan cleared his throat. “The door was open like that, but the keys were on the seat when we arrived. I tried the engine.”
“You shouldn’t have touched anything.”
“Sorry.”
“And what happened when you tried it?”
“It worked.”
Ludlow climbed in and turned the key for himself. He let the engine roar for a few seconds, then switched it off.
“Was the car generally reliable?” he asked. “It’s a pretty old model.”
Eighteen years old, Nathan knew. Around the same age as his own.
“The older ones work better out here. New models all have electronic displays and things that can’t cope with the dust. It gets in the cracks and stuffs the whole system. Cam looked after this one well.”
“What about the radio?” Ludlow pointed to the cradle on the dashboard.
Nathan showed him how to work through the frequencies. “Sounds okay to me. His EPIRB’s probably under the passenger seat as well.”
Ludlow reached down and pulled out the personal distress beacon. It was still in its box, and had not been activated.
“You don’t use handheld radios?” he said.
“No. They’re all connected to the cars.”
“So if you leave your vehicle, you’re without comms?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s the range?”
“Depends. You can get twenty kilometers straight, further with the repeater masts, but there are black spots,” Nathan said. “It’s line of sight, basically.”
The sergeant continued working his way through the car, running his gloved hands over the interior. He checked behind the visors, in the glove box, under the seats, then checked again.
“I think his wallet’s missing.” Ludlow raised his head. “It wasn’t in his pockets, either.”
“No. It’ll be at home.”
“He wouldn’t carry it?”
Nathan, whose own wallet was on his kitchen table in his unlocked house a couple of hundred kilometers away, waved a hand at their surroundings. Why bother?
A hint of embarrassment flitted across Ludlow’s face. He opened a repair manual and flicked through the pages.
“What are you looking for?” Nathan asked eventually.
Ludlow hesitated. “Anything.”
He doesn’t know, Nathan thought. He has no idea what to make of any of this. He saw Xander frown. Probably thinking the same thing.
“Are you going to dust for fingerprints or something?” Xander said.
“The Criminal Investigation Branch would need to fly out for that.”
“And will they fly out?”
“Only if there are signs of violence.”
They all turned their eyes to the car. The windows were not cracked, the seats had seen nothing worse than general grime, and the mirrors were positioned at the correct angles.
Ludlow looked back at Xander. “I’m sorry.”
He worked on methodically, stopping short only when he opened the rear doors. He stood, as they had, staring at the water bottles and cans of food stacked neatly in front of him.
“He left all this?”
Nathan didn’t have an answer. That’s supposed to be your job to work out, he thought.
Ludlow looked over. “Is there any practical explanation you can think of?”
“I’ve heard of people—” Nathan sounded desperate even to his own ears. “Sometimes people leave their vehicle for some reason—chase down a stray calf or something—and go further than they meant to. They start running and they don’t realize how far they’ve gone, and suddenly they’re disoriented.”
Ludlow peeled off his gloves. “Do you think that’s what might have happened?”
“No. I don’t know, I’m just saying. But I don’t think Cam would have got lost around here.”
“Right,” Ludlow said. “The car looks in good shape to me, but let’s say there was something wrong with it. The breakdown advice is to stay with your vehicle, isn’t it? Golden rule, I was told.”
“Yeah.” The sergeant caught the note in Nathan’s voice and looked up. Definitely more switched-on than he’d seemed at first, Nathan thought.
“Yeah, but what?” Ludlow said.
“Nothing. Just, you use your common sense as well. And Cam knew that. I mean, there’s a bloody road right there. He had plenty of water. If the car wasn’t working and he had to walk anywhere, it would have been to the road, no question. And he would have taken water.”
“So why—?”
“I dunno why.” Nathan could hear his voice rising. “I’m just saying. That’s what he would have done. But first choice by an absolute bloody mile, he would have stayed with the car and kept the air con running and got on the radio for help. And if he absolutely had to le
ave it, he would have walked to the road, not the middle of nowhere.”
“That’s what Cameron would have done,” Ludlow said.
“Yeah.”
“If he’d wanted to be found?”
Ludlow’s words hung in the air.
“Yeah, obviously, mate.” Nathan bristled. “Look, I hear what you’re getting at, you can come out and say it.”
To his credit, the cop just gave a small nod of assent. “I’m just thinking about what your other brother said. About Cameron perhaps feeling under pressure.”
“He had access to guns.”
“Cameron did?”
“Yeah. Rifle cabinet at home, same as everyone.”
“There’s no weapon in the car.”
“No, well, he didn’t carry one around all the time. But at home, he wouldn’t have had any trouble, you know? If he’d wanted to put his hands on one.”
“So, you think—”
“I don’t think anything. I’m just saying. If that’s what you’re thinking, why wouldn’t he—” Nathan stopped short. He didn’t say it.
“It’s a good point.” Ludlow nodded. “But you would have seen what the damage from a gunshot looks like?”
“Of course. On animals,” he added.
“Your brother would be familiar with that too.”
“So?”
Ludlow’s expression made his face look strangely older. “So maybe nothing. But sometimes people make the mistake of thinking a gun offers an easy way out, and it doesn’t. Mentally, it’s a huge hurdle. An impossible step, for some people. Sometimes—” Ludlow stopped and frowned. He turned his head slowly, taking in the view on all sides. The land was enormous in every direction. “Is this one of the highest points around here?”
“This outcrop is the highest point around here,” Nathan said. They’d used to call it the lookout, not entirely as a joke. “Sometimes, what?”
Ludlow didn’t answer as he took a few steps to the rocky edge. He leaned over. Nathan didn’t need to follow him. He knew what was down there.
“Sometimes, what, mate?” he repeated. “What were you going to say?”
“Just that sometimes people simply need a way out. And the direct approach isn’t for everybody.”
Nathan took a few steps and joined him on the edge of the lookout. He could feel Xander watching him. Below was a five-meter drop onto a pillow of sand. You’d be lucky to break your ankle, let alone your neck, he knew. It was nowhere near high enough to offer a desperate man a certain escape.
The other direction, though … Nathan turned and looked past his son. To the west. As far as he could see, the land stretched out, deep and open, all the way to the desert. A perfect sea of nothingness. If someone was looking for oblivion, that was the place to find it.
5
Nathan gripped the steering wheel. In the passenger seat, Xander sat with his arms crossed and his shoulders hunched. They both stared at the road ahead.
They hadn’t spoken in twenty minutes, and it suddenly hit Nathan that his son was on the verge of tears. He was holding them back as hard as only teenage boys can—pale and tight-faced with the effort of shoring up the dam—but the grief was lapping at the edges. Xander had always looked up to Cameron, Nathan knew, and as he sat there, fully alive himself, he felt a brief stab of envy for his brother under a tarp.
Before they’d left Cameron’s Land Cruiser, Ludlow had produced a roll of crime scene tape from his bag and looked for a way to surround the vehicle. There were no trees, or even any sticks he could use as stakes in the ground. In the end, he’d cut strips of tape and tied them to the door handles.
“I don’t think you need to be too worried, mate,” Nathan had said, but Ludlow had still locked the driver’s door and handed the keys to Nathan.
“You okay holding on to these? Your own sergeant wants to see all this tomorrow.”
Nathan had put the keys in his pocket, where he could still feel them now as he drove. They pressed heavy and uncomfortable against his hip. He and Xander had driven the sergeant back to the gravesite in silence, where Steve had thankfully finished his immediate duties. The rear door of the ambulance was shut now, and Nathan was glad Cameron was no longer in sight.
Steve had eyeballed them. “Are you blokes all right to drive home?”
Nathan realized they all looked terrible, but they’d nodded anyway.
“Maybe we should camp?” he’d suggested half-heartedly as the ambulance drove away. “Save driving out here again tomorrow.”
“No way. I had enough last night, thanks.” Bub was already halfway into the driver’s seat. “You both coming back to ours?”
Nathan nodded. “Yeah, we will. Mum’s expecting us tomorrow anyway. For Christmas on Thursday?” he added, when Bub looked surprised.
“Oh, yeah. Righto.” Bub started his engine. “See you at home, then.”
“Which way do you want to go?”
“Road,” Bub said. “Back route’ll take longer if we get bogged. Dunno about you, but I can’t be arsed digging my way out today.” He slammed his door.
Nathan could see Bub’s car a short way ahead on the road now. The dust billowing from under his wheels stopped for a few hundred meters as the unpaved road suddenly switched to seamless bitumen, well maintained and clearly marked with white paint. An emergency landing strip for the Flying Doctor service. The smoothness lasted barely a minute before they were jolted back onto gravel.
Xander leaned forward in the passenger seat. In the distance was a rare flicker of movement. A car was approaching, still too far away to see properly.
“All the Christmas presents are still at your place,” Xander said, sitting back heavily.
“Shit. Sorry, I thought we’d be going home before heading to Grandma’s.” Nathan had planned to get back to his own house today, where they could scrub a week’s worth of dust from themselves and their clothes ahead of the family Christmas reunion.
“It doesn’t matter,” Xander said. “No one will care after this.”
No, Nathan thought. But he was annoyed with himself. He’d wanted to make this Christmas a good one for Xander, even if that was already turning into a pretty big ask.
The approaching car was still small but growing more visible ahead. Nathan recognized it as belonging to a long-term jackaroo from Atherton. The guy must be heading into town, there was nowhere else to go. The car grew closer, slowly. It felt like it took an age. There was time to consider the slight bend in the guy’s bullbar and the scraped paintwork on the hood.
The jackaroo reduced his speed a touch as he drew level with Bub, raising his hand in a wave. The greeting froze midair when he clocked Nathan driving behind. Nathan couldn’t make out the man’s eyes behind the windscreen, but he could see the swivel of his wrist. Firmly and deliberately, the wave turned into the finger.
It was nothing less than Nathan had expected, from the first sight of the dust in the distance. He stole a glance sideways. Xander was staring out of the passenger seat window, pretending, as always, not to have noticed.
* * *
Nathan sometimes thought he could see his childhood homestead appear a thousand times, and a thousand times find it surprising.
The house stood on a slight rise at the end of a driveway that stretched for more than twenty kilometers. The homestead glowed like an oasis as the red desert gave way to a lush lawn and well-tended garden, kept green by bore water. The house itself, with its sweeping veranda, looked plucked from a country street in a time when homes were still generous and sprawling. The large, industrial sheds dotted around spoiled the illusion a little, as did the staff accommodation cabins. They looked deserted to Nathan’s eye, but a caravan he hadn’t seen before was parked in the yard beside a dusty four-wheel drive.
As he drove up to the house, he kept his eyes peeled for signs of decay or disrepair. He could see none. The house, like the property and the well-fed cattle they’d passed on the journey, appeared to be doing well. Better than Na
than’s own place, at any rate, he couldn’t help thinking as he parked next to Bub. Strings of tinsel and Christmas lights had been wound along the veranda. They had been put up with care, but already looked tatty as they flapped in the hot wind.
Harry was waiting, leaning on the wooden railings. He straightened as the three of them got out of the cars. Harry had skin like a leather bag and an expression that barely changed, making it hard to guess what he was thinking. Balamara born and bred, he had started working on stations at an age when he should have still been in school. He had come to Burley Downs before Nathan was born, and he was still there, after Nathan had left.
“Good to see you both,” Harry said, shaking Nathan’s hand and giving Xander a gentle slap on the shoulder. Bub was engulfed in a slobbery reunion with his dog. Nathan saw Cameron’s cattle dog, Duffy, hanging back and watching the empty road. He reached out a hand, and she came to him reluctantly.
Strains of music floated from somewhere in the house as a recorded voice sang about snow and sleigh bells. Coming from his nieces’ rooms, Nathan guessed. It had been a year since he had seen Cameron’s daughters, and he wondered how they would cope with the news about their dad. The festive music sounded strangely grotesque, but the girls were only eight and five, he thought. Whatever helped.
The front door opened, and Nathan felt a jolt of horror at the sight of his mother. Her cheeks were pale and sunken beneath bloodshot eyes, and her shoulders were hunched as though it was taking all her effort simply to be upright.
“I thought you were trying to sleep,” Harry said.
Liz Bright didn’t bother answering as she blinked into the light through slitted, swollen lids. Nathan could see fresh tears forming as she looked at them. Neither he nor Bub was the son she wanted to see, Nathan knew, then immediately felt guilty for thinking it. Liz had always tried hard not to play favorites, but Cameron’s ready smile, quick mind, and well-run property hadn’t made it easy. Bub, unshaven and dust-streaked, was rubbing his eye with a dirty finger. Nathan knew he looked no better.
Liz brightened a touch at the sight of Xander, and she pulled him close, holding him fiercely. When she let him go, she reached up and put her arms around Nathan, too. He hugged her back. The movement had the rusty edge of underuse.