The Lost Man

by Jane Harper

  He was still trying to work it out when he heard a noise outside. He looked up as Ilse came through the door, Duffy at her feet. She jumped when she saw him.

  “My God.” She put a hand to her chest. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I was—” He held up the planner.

  “Oh, right. Fine.” She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, her face flushed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s my husband’s funeral,” she snapped.

  Nathan blinked. He’d never heard that tone from her before. “What else?”

  Ilse paced across the room, dropping into the chair behind her desk. “How long have you been hiding in here?”

  “Not that long.”

  She nodded. “It’s strange out there, isn’t it? Listening to all those people go on about what a great guy Cameron was and how much they’ll miss him.” She shook her head. “I don’t recognize some of them, and a lot of the others I haven’t seen in years. They never come around, they never call. They barely knew him, really.”

  “No. I suppose not.”

  Duffy, who had been sniffing around the desk, ran over to Nathan, and he bent down to her. He could feel Ilse’s eyes on him. He still felt a touch light-headed and dehydrated. How many beers had he had? Not many, but more than he felt comfortable having when he was alone with Ilse.

  “Sorry.” He started to stand. “I’ll get out of your way.”

  “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

  The sharp edge in her tone made him stop for a second time. He stared at her, and she stared back.

  “Go on, then. Don’t let me keep you.” She jerked her head toward the door. “You must have been here with me for—what?—two whole minutes already? Well past your normal cue to leave.”

  Nathan stood there. “Do you want me to stay?” he said, finally.

  He waited. Ilse said nothing for a long time. At last she took a breath.

  “I was talking to Steve. About Cameron and—” She dropped her eyes. “And about Jenna.”

  “Did he say something that upset you?”

  Ilse made a bitter noise. “No. The opposite, actually. He didn’t say anything. I wanted to know what he thought happened back then, but he wouldn’t tell me anything.” She looked at Nathan now. “You said he took her seriously. So why is he being so secretive now?”

  “Well, you said it.” Nathan shrugged. “It’s your husband’s funeral. Maybe he’s trying to protect you.”

  “Me?” The flush in her face grew angrier. “It’s not about protecting me. It’s about Cameron. It always is. He’s dead, and we’re all still dancing around him. Don’t touch his painting. Don’t do Bub’s plan. Don’t talk about—” She stopped. “I’m sorry. I’m finding today very hard.”

  “I know. It’s all been hard.”

  She took a deep breath. “Listen, ignore me. Of course you can leave if you want.”

  “Ilse, it’s not—”

  “No, I know. I get it. It’s fine.” She waved a hand. “Anyway, you probably should be out there. It’s a good time to let people see you.”

  “Harry said that too.”

  “You should listen to him.” A pause. “Who knows? Your friend might be looking for you.”

  “Melanie?”

  “Is that her name?”

  “Apparently. I don’t remember her very well.”

  “She remembers you.”

  “Well.” He smiled and shrugged. “Can you blame her?”

  At last, Ilse smiled back.

  Nathan pushed his chair aside. “I should probably go back, though,” he said. “Otherwise Harry and Xander will notice I’m missing and read something into it.”

  “Well, good luck,” she said. “You might not need it as much as you think.”

  “Maybe. But—” He could still hear the chatter through the door. “It’s what you said. I haven’t seen most of those people in years. And maybe they can forget what I did, but now I’m supposed to just forget what they did? It’s been ten years. Xander’s suffered, my livestock, someone poisoned my dog—”

  Ilse looked up at that. “Really? That’s how Kelly died? I didn’t know that.”

  “Yeah,” Nathan said. “Not that anyone believes me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there were no other reports of baiting. Glenn and Xander think I’m paranoid.”

  Ilse swung a little in her chair. She was frowning. “Wait. Remind me. When was this?”

  “About eighteen months ago.”

  “Bub went through a phase of baiting dingoes last year.”

  Nathan stilled. “Did he?”

  “For the bounties. He was talking about moving away and trying to save his money. Cam told him not to do it around our own stock, of course. But Bub was still bringing home a lot of scalps, so it was obvious he was doing it somewhere. I thought—” She stopped. “Cam said he was going to warn you.”

  “Well, he didn’t.”

  There was a silence. Nathan could feel pressure building in his temples, and his neck and shoulder muscles were tight.

  “I thought I was losing my bloody mind,” he said. “I thought I’d imagined it.”

  “No.” Ilse looked at him and slowly shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I’m sorry, Nathan.”

  “And before you try to tell me Cam wouldn’t have forgotten on purpose—”

  “I wasn’t going to say that.”

  “Oh.”

  “No, actually, I expect Cam probably did do it on purpose.” Ilse’s gaze was clear and steady. “He could be a bit funny about you. And he wouldn’t overlook something like that by accident.”

  Nathan couldn’t think what to say to that.

  “But listen.” Ilse sat forward in her seat. “Try not to be too angry with Bub, okay? For what it’s worth, he must have felt bad about it, because he suddenly stopped baiting overnight. He didn’t say why, but it was like he wouldn’t touch it anymore.”

  Nathan felt the tightness spread from his shoulders to his chest. Out of the window, Bub was no longer anywhere in sight. The fence by the graves stood empty. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

  “I’d better go.”

  “Stay,” she said. “If you want.”

  “No, it’s okay. Thanks.”

  “Just—”

  “What?”

  “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, please don’t do it now. Not with all these people here.”

  Nathan stood at the door.

  “Please, Nathan. Leave it for now. For me.”

  He stepped out. The hallway was quiet and he shut the door behind him and bent down. As Duffy licked his face, Nathan thought about the day that Kelly had died. It had felt like the beginning of the end, in a lot of ways. It was after that that he’d let his gun license lapse, and he’d turned off his radio for good, and he’d stopped answering his phone to the point where Harry had put the satellite tracker into his hands and ordered him to check in daily. I’m okay; I’m not okay.

  Nathan definitely did not feel okay right then. After Kelly died, he had felt his fingertips starting to slip. He had been holding on for so long, and it was too hard, and he was just tired. He had felt himself, for the first time, simply giving up. Not all at once, and not entirely willingly, but a little at a time, slipping away, day after day.

  And while this was going on, his bloody brothers had known all along what had happened. Nathan looked left toward the busy living room and right toward the yard outside. He’d well and truly missed his chance with bloody Cam, but where would Bub be? Behind him, the office door was still shut. He took a deep breath and made himself think about what Ilse had said. For me.

  He pictured her, still sitting at her desk, and the bell in Nathan’s head rang again, suddenly so close and clear that it took him by surprise. Ilse at her desk, working late into the evening after all those long and busy days laid out in her planner. And suddenly, Nathan knew what the daily check marks were in
the bottom corner of her diary.

  Nathan had always assumed it had been Liz who had sent Harry over with the satellite tracker. Two buttons. I’m okay; I’m not okay. Each night he pressed the same one, no matter how strong the urge was to do otherwise. He didn’t think it was even monitored anymore; no one had ever mentioned it again. But he pressed the same button every night anyway, if only for himself. I’m okay. The same message, sent up by a fragile beam into the night sky. Shooting up to a satellite, then falling all the way back down to earth. A connection through thousands of kilometers of space. He stood outside the office door, with Ilse on the other side, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he didn’t feel so alone.

  30

  Nathan stood outside the office, one hand on the door, debating whether to go back in. He wasn’t sure what he would say to Ilse, but he wanted to say something. Thank you, maybe.

  He was still hovering when he heard a familiar cough in the gloom. He looked up the hallway. Liz was standing outside her bedroom. Her feet were bare, and she was leaning against the doorway for support. She started as she saw Nathan watching her.

  “You looked like your dad for a second.” Her gaze was unfocused as he walked over. “Everyone’s still here.” She sounded surprised.

  “You haven’t been asleep long.”

  “Oh. I thought it would all be over.”

  “No. Not yet,” he said, wondering vaguely what medication Steve had given her. “Maybe you should lie down again.”

  “I can’t. I close my eyes, and I think about Cameron. I wake up, and I think about Cameron. I may as well be up.”

  Someone passed by at the other end of the hall, their shadow long. Old Tom. He saw Liz and raised a hand.

  “I should go and say hello to people.” She didn’t move.

  “I don’t think anyone would mind if you didn’t.”

  “Cameron would mind.” Liz turned to him, her eyes suddenly clearer. “Have you spoken to Steve yet? Made an appointment?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You promised me, Nathan.” Liz took his arm, her fingers surprisingly strong.

  “I know. I will.”

  “Let’s go now and—”

  “Grandma?” Xander stood at the end of the hall with the girl Nathan had seen him talking to outside. He touched her elbow. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

  The girl looked a little disappointed, but nodded. As she wandered away, Xander turned back. “Are you okay, Grandma?”

  “We’re going to find Steve.”

  “He’s outside.”

  “Is Bub out there too?” Nathan said, feeling a few certain words about a certain dog brewing inside him.

  “No.” Xander hesitated. “He was a bit drunk. Uncle Harry brought him inside for a rest.”

  “Let’s go and find Steve, Nathan.”

  “Grandma, you haven’t even got shoes on,” Xander said, with a note of accusation that Nathan felt was directed his way.

  “Oh.” Liz looked down. “I don’t know—” She scanned the floor, flustered, as though they might appear.

  “They’re probably in your bedroom,” Nathan said. “Xander, you help your grandma. I’ll go and have a word with Steve.”

  “Are you actually going to talk to him?” Xander said, as Liz stumbled back into her room. “Or are you just saying that to shut her up?”

  “No, I’ll talk to him. Good enough?”

  “Not really.” Xander was looking past him.

  Nathan sighed. “You planning to carry on like this until you leave? Because I’m not sure I’m up for another three days of it.”

  “Are you going to think about what I said?”

  “About what? About me moving away? Mate, we’ve been through this—”

  “No, we haven’t. You haven’t even thought about it. But, yeah, whatever. Like you said, I’ll be gone in three days, and you’ll be back on your own again and can do whatever you like. Everything back to how you want it.”

  “Mate, this is not how I want it.”

  “Bullshit, you—”

  There was a soft tumble from the bedroom that sounded like shoes being dropped, and they both looked over. Nathan started for the bedroom door.

  “I’ll go.” Xander stopped him. “You’re supposed to be getting your head straight.”

  He disappeared into the bedroom, and Nathan stood in the hall alone for a moment.

  He was lucky, Nathan thought as he turned away. For years, Xander had never given him a moment’s grief. He went to school, he was polite to old people, he didn’t drink or take drugs, as far as Nathan knew, anyway. He was naturally good-hearted in a way that Nathan was surprised had come from either him or Jacqui. If the kid was pushing back now, it wasn’t before time.

  Still, it had felt easier when he was younger. He could still clearly remember that day more than sixteen years ago now, when Jacqui had told him she was pregnant. Her eyes had gleamed with delight, and they’d both managed to pretend for a while that their marriage wasn’t already on shaky ground.

  Nathan heard the toilet flush in the small bathroom down the hall. The chatter still coming from the living room had taken on a slightly different tone. Things were starting to wrap up, Nathan thought. People would be leaving soon. A tray of half-eaten sandwiches had been abandoned precariously on the table by the phone, threatening to topple off. He picked it up and headed for the kitchen.

  Jacqui hadn’t been smiling for long, though, he remembered. It had been a hard pregnancy. She’d had severe morning sickness, gagging at the sight of anything but plain rice. It had lasted most of the day and far past a week, when the books had promised it would stop. She had lain on the couch in the heat with a bucket by her side, waving away anything Nathan could think to offer.

  As Nathan passed the toilet, he heard the lock turn on the door, and Katy came out, pale-faced and clutching a balled-up tissue.

  “How are you feeling—?” He stopped as her bloodshot gaze fell on the sandwich tray in his hands, and she gagged in a way he had last seen more than sixteen years earlier. “Oh.” He breathed out. They stared at each other for a long moment, and he knew by the look in her eyes that he’d guessed right. “Congratulations?”

  She didn’t say anything, just pressed the tissue to her lips.

  “Go and sit down,” he said. “I’ll find Simon for you.”

  “Wait. No.” Her hand shot out and clutched him above the wrist. Her grip was so firm it was nearly painful. “Don’t get Simon.”

  “Why not?”

  Katy wiped the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand. “For God’s sake. Why do you think?”

  * * *

  For a moment, Nathan tried to convince himself that it could be Bub or even Harry, at a push.

  “Cameron?” he said, finally.

  She nodded.

  “Definitely?”

  “Yes.”

  “No chance at all it could be Simon?”

  Her mouth twitched. “Simon and I haven’t been getting along for a while now.” A fresh sheen of sweat had broken out across her forehead.

  “Did Cameron know?”

  “Yes.”

  Through the door to the living room, the crowd shifted, and Nathan could see the top of the backpacker’s dark head. The sound of laughter and chatter rose and fell.

  “Do you want to speak to the nurse?” he said finally.

  Katy shook her head.

  “Someone else?”

  She gave a dry laugh. “Like who? Who else is there to talk to around here? There’s no one.”

  Nathan hesitated, then took Katy’s arm and swiftly led her up the hall.

  “Come in here.” He opened the door to Xander’s bedroom. “Tell me.”

  She sat on the bed, and he leaned against the wall. He waited while she picked at the faded floral bedspread.

  “Simon’s in debt,” she said finally. “He has a plumbing business back home, and I knew things were tough, but it turns o
ut it was worse than I thought. Worse than he’d told me, anyway. He owes quite a lot to quite a lot of people, and I don’t know what he’s going to do about it.” She shook her head in frustration. “The point is, we really need the money. Or he does, anyway.”

  “Okay.”

  “I didn’t want to come and work here.” Katy’s fingers were still plucking at the quilt. “I’m sorry, but it’s too lonely, and I’d had enough of that on the properties out West. I wanted to go home, but Simon said we needed to save as much money as we could, otherwise we’d have nothing at all when we got back.” She paused. “I don’t know if that’s true or not. I don’t know what to believe from him anymore.”

  “So Simon wanted to take the work here?”

  “Yeah. We met Cameron in the pub in town, like we said, but—” Katy looked at her hands, still picking. “I’m sorry, I know he’s your brother. But I didn’t have a good feeling about it.”

  “In what way?”

  “Just—” Katy frowned. “I knew that it wasn’t Simon that he was hiring. Something about the way he looked at me. I’m not even a teacher.” She looked up. “And I told Cameron that. Simon was annoyed with me later, he said I should have lied to get the job. But Cameron didn’t mind. He said the work was easy, that it was hard to find people, and they needed the help for his girls, and if anyone asked—his wife, whoever—he’d say I was qualified.” She balled her hands into fists, trying to still them. “So I owed him a favor before I even started.”

  Nathan thought about his brother and what it felt like to need something from him.

  “Simon didn’t have a problem with this, though?” he said.

  “Simon really needs the money. And Cam was offering good wages. More than we were making before, and cash in hand. So we agreed, and I thought maybe it would be okay. I mean, I’m thinking, it’s a family property, and he’s got his wife and his kids running around. And it was fine, for about three weeks. Which was longer than I’d expected, actually.”