by Jane Harper
“Where were you when this was going on? Sniffing after that little bitch next door?”
“Jacqui, you mean.”
The back of Nathan’s head bounced against the wall with a sharp smack. Carl hadn’t even bothered to look at him properly as he’d lifted an arm and taken a swipe, his attention focused on Cameron. The blow had come too fast for Nathan to defend himself; not that he necessarily would have, anyway. Sometimes it was easier not to. He realized Carl was still waiting for an answer, and this time Nathan just nodded. Yeah, I was with Jacqui.
“Why weren’t you looking out for your brother?”
Nathan had no idea what to say to that.
“You saw them, though?” Carl was pointing at Cam, but shouting at Nathan. “Go on, then. Tell me. Has he done something I need to worry about?”
Carl’s eyes were on him now. Their gazes drew level these days, and Nathan wondered why he was still flooded with the same terror he’d felt his whole life. The feeling that came whenever Carl raised his voice or his hands, or both. When Nathan had been forced to burn his guitar.
It would never change, Nathan realized with a terrible flash of clarity. Carl wouldn’t stop, and Nathan didn’t seem to be able to make him, so perhaps they were stuck like this for the rest of their lives. He was exhausted by the thought. His head hurt from the blow. He looked at Cameron, and whatever his brother had or hadn’t done, Nathan was suddenly sick of it all.
He didn’t want any of this. It wasn’t him bringing that kind of trouble home. He at least had the bloody sense to check that he had the nod from Jacqui before he took her pants off. Nathan’s head was still ringing as he looked from Carl to Cameron, and all at once, he didn’t want to be near either of these men. He wanted to be alone, somewhere far away. He was still thinking about that when Cameron brushed his arm lightly with his elbow, and brought him back with a jolt. Nathan realized his mistake and opened his mouth and did what he would expect Cam to do for him. Have his back.
“No,” he said. “Cam didn’t do anything.”
In reality, the answer had come only a beat late. Not even that; half a beat. A delay so slight it was barely discernible. But Carl had noticed it, as his eyes slid from one son to the other.
“Right,” he said, in a voice that suggested that, for once, he understood his boys perfectly. “Leave. I need to talk to your brother.” And with that, Nathan was dismissed.
He had sat in his car with the doors shut so he couldn’t hear anything coming from the house. He saw Bub sneak out and opened the passenger door to let him climb in. He could tell Bub wanted to ask questions, and Nathan felt he should try to answer, but when neither found the words, they simply sat together in shamed silence.
Nathan, already guilt-ridden, used the time to rehearse in his head what he would say to Cameron. I didn’t mean to hesitate. It meant nothing. He’d learned a long time ago to think first and talk second, because Carl did not like getting the wrong answer. I was scared, Cam. I was scared of Dad. I’m sorry. I know you didn’t do anything wrong. Nathan wanted to say all that and more to Cameron, and he did, later, several times. It made no difference.
It took a long time for Cameron to look Nathan in the eye again. When he did, it was through a shadow of betrayal that never, in twenty years, fully went away.
18
Xander’s room was empty when Nathan went back inside, but he could hear the shower running in the bathroom. A half-read book lay open on Xander’s bed. It was the same book Nathan had bought to give his son for Christmas, he noticed with annoyance. The card being used as a bookmark indicated it was a gift from Xander’s stepfather, Martin, an architect whose work with dazzling reflective polished metal surfaces was occasionally described in newspapers as “polarizing.” Nathan took a deep breath, closed the door, and walked back to the living room.
Through the window, he could still make out the dark outline of the backpackers’ caravan. He watched it for a minute, thinking about what Sophie had said, then turned and fired up the family computer on the desk in the corner. Ten minutes later, he had managed to access the wheezing Internet and was waiting for a social media site to flicker to life. When it finally loaded, he clicked on the search bar and typed in Katy’s name.
The computer grunted as Nathan scrolled through the search results slowly the first time, then twice more. Nothing. Nothing that he could see, anyway. There were plenty of people with the same name as Katy, but none with a profile or picture that seemed to match. He checked his watch. Not long until the generator went down for the night. He tapped in Simon’s name next, scrolling as fast as the groaning technology would let him. He was on the third page when the floorboards in the hall creaked. Harry appeared in the doorway. He glanced at the computer, but couldn’t see the screen from where he stood.
“I’ve been talking to Bub,” he said.
“Oh, yeah?” From his face, Nathan could guess what this was about.
“And we both know Bub gets things wrong from time to time,” Harry said.
“Sometimes.”
“So I’m seriously hoping he’s wrong about you not having your gun license anymore.”
“I didn’t get around to renewing it.”
“Bullshit. What, for the first time in your life it slipped your mind, did it?”
Nathan said nothing.
“You’ve surrendered all your weapons to Glenn?”
“Those are the rules, Harry.”
“It’s basic equipment, mate—”
“I’ll get it renewed.”
“You’re all the way out there on your own. You turn your radio off for days at a time—”
“Jesus, Harry, I said I’ll renew it.”
“Does your mum know that’s how you’re living?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell her.”
“Does Xander?”
The question hung in the air.
“Did you want something else, Harry?” Nathan said at last, his voice cold.
Harry gazed back, unmoved, until Nathan was the one to look away. “Generator’s going off in ten.”
He disappeared from the doorway, and Nathan stared at the computer screen until the glow made his eyes water. He blinked, then checked the time again. Progress had been slow, but he’d seen enough to know that there wasn’t much to be found of the backpackers online.
That wasn’t unheard of. But it was unusual. Nathan could count on one hand the number of backpackers he’d known to resist the temptation to upload a string of identical photos of rocks and sky and cows for the folks back home. He looked at the clock once more, then, as fast as the computer would allow, opened a fresh search window and typed in a new name. There were a lot of results for Jenna Moores in the UK. He might have been sifting through them for hours if someone hadn’t already beaten him to it.
A link came up right at the top, the different-colored font showing it had already been clicked on at least once before on that computer. Nathan had no idea if it was possible to find out when. Maybe Xander would know. For now, he clicked on the link again.
She had become a florist. She ran her own business, and there was a photo of her planting something tall and green into a pot. The braid was gone, and the twenty-odd years were visible on her face, but it was her.
Her photographic smile was wide but slightly stilted, and Nathan got the impression several attempts had been made to get the shot right. Jenna’s fingers were partly buried in soil, but he could see no wedding ring. He wondered what Jenna’s boyfriend from the time was up to these days, but he couldn’t remember the guy’s name. He wasn’t sure he’d ever known it. He looked at Jenna’s face. There was a phone number at the top of the screen. Nathan reached for a pen, wrote it down, and stood up.
The hallway was empty, and the kitchen and Ilse’s office were both dark as he picked up the phone and dialed. He listened to the ringtone, and was just realizing he had no idea what time it was in England, when someone answered.
“Good morning, No
rthern Blooms.” The voice was chirpy.
“Is Jenna Moore there, please?”
“She’s on leave, I’m afraid. Can I help you with something?”
Nathan hesitated. “She was trying to get in touch with my brother.” He waited, but there was no discernible reaction down the line. “I wanted to pass on some information. Does she have another number I can try?”
“Oh. No, I’m sorry.” The girl sounded genuinely apologetic. “Not one I can give out, unfortunately. But it wouldn’t be much help anyway, she’s abroad and out of mobile range.”
Nathan looked at the landline cord in his hand. “Really.”
“I can take your number if you like.”
“I’m actually out of mobile range myself, as a matter of fact.”
“Are you?” The girl sounded amused by the novelty. “I don’t suppose you’re on a yoga retreat in Bali, by any chance?”
“No,” Nathan said. “No, I’m not.”
“I suppose that would be too much of a coincidence.” She laughed. In his other ear, Nathan heard a soft electronic whump and he was plunged into darkness. The generator was off. The vanished light from the hall left a ghostly glow in his eyes. He blinked, temporarily blind.
“Where are you based?” he said, as the gray outlines of furniture slowly started to take shape.
“At the end of Bell Street.”
“Sorry, I meant which city?”
“Oh. Manchester.”
Nathan wasn’t sure where that was. Somewhere northern, he guessed.
“Anyway,” the voice was saying, “she’ll be back in the store in—bear with me—eleven days, if you’d like to try her again?”
It was then that Nathan heard the noise. Not on the phone. Something at his end, faint in the night’s stillness. Harry, maybe? The window beside him was a black square. He could see nothing but his own reflection in the glass.
“Jenna’s definitely still in Bali?” he said. He heard the noise again and looked over his shoulder. Had it come from inside the house? He held his breath. Another soft thud. No, it was outside. He turned back to the window. Still nothing.
“Yes. Not looking forward to coming back to the freezing weather. She says it’s almost too hot, if you can imagine.”
“Is that right?” Nathan looked out into the inky darkness. “Well, thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome. And thank you for your interest in Northern Blooms!”
Nathan hung up. Outside, the yard was black. There was no movement at all. He waited a minute, then two. Nothing. He was about to turn away when he heard the noise again.
19
Nathan stepped into the dark and waited for his eyes to adjust to the sliver of moonlight. The back door creaked behind him, and he pulled it shut. He stood patiently and listened.
A muffled thump.
He followed the noise around the side of the house. A glow seeped out from under the garage door, soft, but enough to ruin his night vision. He walked over slowly, telling himself not to be ridiculous while still treading quietly. He recognized the back of the head immediately. It was half-in, half-out of a low cupboard, the shadows stark under a battery-powered hurricane lamp.
“And here I am, thinking this is my big chance to catch Lo’s burglar red-handed,” Nathan said, leaning against the door. The head turned, and Xander looked up.
“What’s going on?” Nathan nodded at the cupboard Xander was searching through. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“No.” Xander stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I keep thinking about what Lo said about Uncle Cam looking for something.”
“Sophie thought she might be confused.”
Xander ran the back of his hand across his forehead, leaving a dusty smear. “What did Ilse say about it?”
“I don’t know. She hasn’t really talked to me about it.”
“Oh, right. I just thought she might have.”
Nathan pulled up a cracked plastic chair and sat down. The garage had doubled as a bolt-hole for Cameron, by the look of things, with bench-top space and a battered desk in the corner.
“You found anything, then?”
“No. Doesn’t help not knowing what to search for. Could be anything. Or nothing, I suppose.”
Nathan looked at Xander. Every time he saw his son these days, he seemed more grown-up. But now, standing there with his shoulders and back broadening out, and dust on his hands, he looked like a man.
“Where have you looked?”
“Around here, so far.” Xander waved a hand at one side of the garage.
“Think you’ll be out here much longer?”
“I don’t know. Till I find something, I guess. Or get too tired.” He shrugged.
“I’d better give you a hand, then.” Nathan pulled himself up. He opened the nearest storage cupboard and came face-to-face with neatly stacked tools.
“I’ve already checked there. Maybe try that one.” Xander pointed.
“Okay.” Nathan moved across. He didn’t expect to find anything—he had no idea whether Lo was right about Cam’s missing items, but even if she was, he couldn’t imagine that his brother hadn’t thought to look in his own garage. He suspected Xander felt the same, but he knew that sometimes there was value in doing something, anything, even if that something was rifling through dusty drawers. They worked side by side, developing a sort of rhythm as they moved through the garage. Open, check, close. He kept an eye on where he was putting his hands and feet, though. There were plenty of snakes around those parts that he really did not want to catch by surprise.
The work might seem pointless, but Nathan was happy to do it if it made Xander feel better. When Nathan and Jacqui had gotten married, she’d had to insist on a baby. He’d never actually agreed, but he hadn’t exercised his options to resist, either, so it had happened. Whatever their differences, he was still grateful to Jacqui for that. He sometimes thought he wouldn’t have minded another couple of kids, if things had turned out differently.
Nathan had felt pretty detached during her pregnancy, only wading in when he’d had to save the kid from some of her bullshit name suggestions. He hadn’t been crash hot about Xander, and still wasn’t, to be honest. It wasn’t even Alex, which at least sounded okay shouted across a paddock. Only when Jacqui had started musing about the potential of Jasper had Nathan thrown his wholehearted support behind naming their son Alexander.
She’d been right in the end, Nathan thought. Xander was a good fit for the lifestyle his kid had ended up leading.
“So, you’re planning on going to uni, hey?” Nathan said, and Xander looked up from the box he was sifting through. “That’s great.”
“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”
“Need to get good marks for that, I suppose.”
“Yeah.”
“Listen, your mum said you’d probably need to stay in Brisbane during the holidays now. Have time to study a bit more, do your homework properly.”
There was a pause. “I might do.”
“Because if you do—” Nathan made himself say it. “That’s fine, mate. Whatever you need to do is fine with me. I mean, you’re always welcome to bring your books here. Nice and quiet. I wouldn’t get in your way—”
“It’s mostly online. I need fast Internet.”
“Oh, right. Yeah. Better in Brisbane. Makes sense.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Honestly, mate.”
“It’s not that I don’t like visiting—”
“I know.”
“—because I do. It’s—”
“Mate, I know. You’ve got things you need to focus on. I get it. And you should do it. Get the marks. Go to uni. You’re smart enough for it.”
“Thanks.” Xander gave a small smile. “You never wanted to go?”
Nathan shook his head. “Not for me.”
In fact, he had never considered it, always assuming he would end up back on the property, where the cattle didn’t ask to see your qualifications
. Then Cameron had surprised him by applying to a uni course in Adelaide. He’d come back three years later with a degree in agribusiness, a lot of big ideas, and a handful of new friends who occasionally came to get dust on their inappropriate city shoes and look around in wide-eyed amusement. When they spoke to Nathan at all, it was in voices a little louder and slower than normal.
“It’s weird,” Xander said, his hands in an open box. “Going through someone’s stuff after they’re gone. All these things that were important to Uncle Cam, and now someone else has to get rid of it all, or whatever.”
“Yeah. They’ll still need a lot of this, though,” Nathan said. “Property still needs to be run.”
“By you?”
“I have enough trouble with my own place.”
“Who then? Bub?”
“They’ll hire a manager, probably. I guess Ilse will decide. She gets Cam’s half.”
Xander ran his finger through the thin layer of dust on the lid of a battered storage box. “Cam didn’t give Bub a bigger share? Or leave anything for Harry?”
“Doesn’t sound like it. Bub still has his third, though.”
“Yeah, but you and Ilse have the rest.”
Something in the way he said it made Nathan look over in surprise. “So?”
“So nothing, I suppose. But her half plus your sixth makes a majority. I wonder how Bub feels about that?”
“He shouldn’t feel anything. It’s exactly the same split as it was with Cam.”
“But it’s not the same, is it? When Cam was alive, it was him and Bub controlling the place—”
“I’m not sure Bub saw it like that.” Nathan thought about his brother scowling at the calendar in the study.
“Well, either way, it was clearly you in the minority. Now it’ll be more like you and Ilse in control. It’s a different dynamic.”
“It’s not. There’s nothing—”
“Dad, mate,” Xander said, a half-smile on his face. “It is.”
Nathan felt a flush creep up his neck. He didn’t reply.
“Don’t worry,” Xander said, reading his mind. “I don’t think anyone else has noticed. You should think about it, though. When it comes to decisions, who would you side with? Ilse or Bub?”