The Lost Man

by Jane Harper

  “I did call the police once,” Harry said, his features again inscrutable. “When things got bad between your mum and dad. You and Cam were away at boarding school. But ask Bub, I guarantee you he’ll remember it. Afterwards, your mum made me promise never to do it again. It caused a lot of problems that a visit from the sergeant didn’t stop, and it didn’t turn out well.”

  “For Mum?”

  “For Bub.”

  They both stared out across the yard at the graves for a long while.

  “I know Bub can be hard work when he wants to be,” Harry said. “But he had it even worse than you and Cam growing up. Just bear that in mind, all right? You and Cam weren’t the only ones who had a bad time.”

  Nathan was quiet for a minute. “Yeah. I know.”

  Harry was looking back at the house now, and Nathan followed his gaze, catching a glimpse of Liz in the kitchen window. She was smiling and looking down, probably talking to one of the girls. As Harry looked on, his features relaxed, and for once his eyes were as open and unguarded as Nathan had ever seen them. Nathan looked at Harry looking at his mother, and suddenly wondered, for the first time, if there was something other than the land and lifestyle that had made Harry want to stay on the property for so many years. Then Liz moved away from the window, and the shutters behind Harry’s eyes snapped closed so fast Nathan thought he might have imagined it.

  The gum tree bristled in the hot air, and they both turned back toward the graves.

  “I spoke to Steve at the funeral,” Nathan said. “He thinks Cameron did attack Jenna that night.”

  Harry just nodded.

  Nathan felt the car keys in his pocket, sharp and jagged. “What do you think she wanted to say to him when she called?”

  “Dunno. Could have been anything.”

  “But do you think—”

  “Look, I’ll tell you what I think, mate.” Harry cut him short. “Sometimes—whether by accident, or whatever—I reckon sometimes things turn out for the best. And when you end up in the right place, it’s not always helpful to go digging up the road that got you there, you know?”

  His eyes flicked over to the graves one last time as the wind lifted dust all around them.

  “Now.” Harry turned firmly back to the house. “You coming in to join everyone?”

  The metal of the keys bit into Nathan’s skin.

  Ilse’s envelope had been taken by a dingo.

  Jenna Moore was not around.

  The lanyard, uncoiled now, was still gritty in his fingers.

  Cameron’s car stood lonely on the driveway.

  Nathan shook his head.

  “Not just yet.”

  36

  Cameron’s Land Cruiser was still parked where Nathan and Xander had left it all those days ago.

  Duffy followed at Nathan’s heels, excited to be in the familiar car once again as they climbed in. Nathan sat in the driver’s seat, feeling where the contours had worn exactly to his brother’s frame. It was the right distance from the pedals now. He fished the keys out of his pocket. The engine started immediately, as it had every other time. No car trouble for Cameron, Nathan thought with a sour note, as he pictured Ilse’s neglected vehicle. He waited until the air conditioner was running nice and high, then got out and started at the back while the dog watched.

  Nathan pulled out the bottles of water, the tinned food, the cooler. He took out the first-aid kit and then removed the contents, checking the edges of the bag for anything envelope-shaped. He unhooked the spare tires and felt around the inside rims. The car had already been searched, twice, by the police. But, Nathan thought as he worked through methodically, they hadn’t known then what they were looking for.

  He ran his hands over the floor mats, feeling in the cracks for anything slipped between. He checked the fabric of the roof and the car seats for any hidden seams. He went through the tool kit, then slid down on the ground and examined the underside of the chassis with a torch. He opened the hood and checked for anything taped to the sides or underneath.

  An hour later, he was down to opening the packets of food and peering inside the water bottles. After another thirty minutes, he opened one of Cam’s beers, climbed into the front seat, and let the air conditioner blow on his face as he fed Duffy biscuits from Cameron’s stash.

  Nathan looked at the mess around him. Nothing. If an envelope had ever been dug up from the stockman’s grave and dumped in this car, it was beyond him to find it. And if anyone other than Cameron had been in the vehicle at that time, they hadn’t revealed themselves to Nathan. Maybe—Nathan took a sip of beer and grimaced; it was as hot as coffee—maybe there never was anything to be found.

  He was still sitting there, sipping and thinking, when he heard footsteps, and a figure appeared through the dusty windscreen. Bub.

  “I heard the engine.” Bub climbed into the passenger seat. “Been looking for you.”

  “Have you?” Nathan offered him one of the five remaining cans in their brother’s six-pack.

  “Twist my arm.” Bub took one, his gaze flicking over the car. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Right. Anyway—” He cracked open the warm beer and barely winced as he took a sip. “Mate, listen. I wanted to say sorry.”

  Nathan looked over in surprise. “Oh yeah?”

  “About Kelly. I know it was my fault, but I promise you, it was an accident. You have to believe me. I seriously never meant for that to happen. Kelly was an awesome dog. I was gutted when I heard that she’d died. I’d never have done that to her on purpose.”

  “I know,” Nathan said, and meant it.

  Bub looked down at the can in his hand. “I felt bloody awful. I shouldn’t have been baiting, but I didn’t know you’d be in that area. I thought I’d picked them all up. When I heard about Kelly, I wanted to explain to you but Cam said he’d make it all right. He said he’d talked to you, and that you were pissed off. But that you knew it was an accident and with you being so, you know—” Bub tapped his head. “It was better to let you get over it and not bring it up.”

  Nathan took a long, warm sip from his can. “He never spoke to me.”

  “No. Well, yeah. I’d started to wonder. Then when you said all that yesterday, I just panicked. I’m sorry, mate. I don’t know what to tell you. It was a shit thing to do, and I’ve felt shit about it ever since. I should’ve come to talk to you instead of trusting bloody Cam.”

  Ilse was right, Nathan thought. Whether or not he forgave his brother, it wouldn’t bring Kelly back.

  “Thanks for telling me, Bub.” Nathan sighed. “Listen, though, it’s me who should be sorry. I should have said this years ago, but I am really sorry, mate, for not doing a lot more to help you with Dad—”

  “No. Christ, Nathan, it’s not your fault. You tried. Cam as well, to be fair.”

  “Still, we should’ve—”

  “What? What could anyone do with a bloke like him?” Bub looked over. “Anyway, it was as bad for you.”

  “It wasn’t, though. Not really,” Nathan said. “Me and Cam always had each other.”

  They sat and drank and stared out together through the windscreen for a while. It was so dusty by now that it was hard to see through.

  “I don’t like living here,” Bub said eventually. “It reminds me too much of some stuff. That’s why I was baiting those dingoes. Trying to get some money to go to Dulsterville, after Cam wouldn’t help. That’s why I’ve been such an arsehole about this place as well.” He sighed. “It’s nothing personal, mate, but the thought of staying here and answering to another one of my bloody brothers for the next ten years does my head in. I just need to be somewhere else.”

  “Roo shooting in Dulsterville, hey?”

  “Yeah.” Bub had a faraway look in his eye. “It’d be so great there. Get my own place, meet some people. There’s chicks living in Dulsterville, you know? Heaps more than here.”

  “Yeah.” Nathan gav
e Bub a small smile. “I’ve heard.”

  “And then, when Cam died, I thought that was my chance. If I couldn’t leave, then maybe running this place wouldn’t be so bad. Could make some changes, but then—” Bub broke the ring pull off his can. “It was bloody obvious that no one thought I could do it. They’re all flat-out hoping you’re going to come back and help Ilse, and it pissed me off.”

  Nathan frowned. “I don’t think that’s what they want. Ilse will get a manager or someone.”

  “Mate,” Bub said, “that’s exactly what they want. I’ve heard Harry say it, and Mum. Ilse as well, I reckon. They’re waiting for you to say you’re interested.”

  “Seriously, no one’s mentioned it.”

  “I know, because they’re all shitting themselves about putting too much pressure on you after, you know, what happened to Cam. And the fact you can be a bit…”

  “What?”

  “Like I said.” Bub tapped his head.

  “I’m not.” Nathan suddenly felt very aware of the ransacked car. “Not always. Anyway, I can barely run my own property.”

  “Yeah, ’cause it’s complete shit. No one could make money running that place. Harry says that all the time. Even Cam used to say that. You’re doing well to have kept going as long as you have.”

  Nathan said nothing for a long time. He reached over and opened another beer. It was a little cooler this time, thanks to the air con. Slightly above room temperature. “What about you?” he said finally.

  “Nate, I don’t want to run things. Too much paperwork. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t have minded being asked, that would have been the bloody polite thing to do, but never mind. I just want to free up some cash and go to Dulsterville.”

  “Roos and chicks, hey?”

  “Exactly, mate. Exactly.”

  Nathan smiled. “Well. It’s good to have a dream.”

  “Yeah. So you’ll talk to Ilse for me? See if she’ll buy me out? At least partly?”

  “You could talk to her. She wants to know what you think.”

  “Yeah, I know. But when I walked past the living room at about three this morning, it looked to me like that sleeping bag of yours wasn’t getting much use.” Bub shot Nathan a sideways glance and grinned. “So, I reckon it’s fair to say you know how to talk to Ilse better than me.”

  Nathan suppressed a smile and said nothing.

  “Or hey,” Bub went on. “Maybe you could buy me out? Slowly would be okay, I don’t need that much at first. If you ever get off your arse and work out what you want.”

  Nathan looked through the dusty windscreen. He could barely make out what lay ahead. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe. Look, either way, we’ll work something out for you.”

  “That’s great. Thanks, mate.” Bub glanced over. “I’m sorry about your face, too, by the way.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.” Bub laughed. “You didn’t even graze me. And I was pretty hammered.”

  “Good to know.”

  “So, are we okay?”

  “Yeah. We’re okay.”

  “Awesome. Thanks, mate.” Bub opened the door to get out. “I’m heading back in. You all done here?”

  Nathan looked around at the interior of the car. There was nothing to be found.

  “Yeah.” He opened the door. “I’m done.”

  37

  “I can’t get it.”

  “It’s like this.”

  Nathan repositioned Sophie’s hand on the neck of the guitar and moved one of her fingers on the string. She tried again, and the chord rang out, a little disharmonious still, but closer. Sophie’s sling lay by her side on the veranda step. Steve had given her permission to take it off for a couple of hours a day, she’d said, and she was making the most of it. Nathan shifted, the late-morning sun warm on his back, and adjusted her hand on the strings once more.

  “Try again. Yeah, better that time.”

  He saw Lo grimace at the sound, but she said nothing, just concentrated on her painting. From the aroma floating from the kitchen, the lunch preparation was coming along well, and Nathan could hear Liz rattling pots and pans inside. He and Bub had gone in to help, only to be shooed out by an exasperated Liz twenty minutes later for getting underfoot. Bub had been happy enough. He’d gotten a new cricket bat for Christmas and had roped Harry into bowling for him around the front of the house. Nathan couldn’t see them from where he sat, but could hear the occasional thwack and cheer.

  The screen door slammed, and Xander appeared. He was holding a folded piece of paper as he sat down next to Nathan. “Sounding good, Sophie.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled, focusing on the strings. It wasn’t only the absence of her sling. It was like a cloud had lifted after the funeral.

  “Here.” Xander handed the sheet of paper to Nathan. “It’s not exactly a Christmas present, but I wanted to give you this.”

  “What is it?” Nathan unfolded it. Inside was a handwritten list of dates.

  “So these are the term dates and the exam weeks for this year.” Xander pointed. “And here are all the potential holidays, here and here. Here, too. So we can plan something.”

  “Oh.” The writing blurred a tiny bit as Nathan looked at it. “Thanks, mate. But seriously, you should stay in Brisbane, focus on your work, if you need to.” He smiled. “Who knows? If your marks are good enough, you might be able to follow Martin into the world of blinding metallic buildings.”

  “Yeah, I’m not going to be doing that.” Xander grinned back. “But look, I probably will have to stay home most of the time, so that’s why you should come and visit me in Brisbane.”

  Nathan hesitated.

  “It was Mum’s idea,” Xander said, reading his mind.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Maybe I could ask her if you could stay with us. Martin built a guest house in the garden.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, he drew it and then paid someone else to build it.” Xander laughed. “He can’t do the practical stuff as well as you can. Anyway, you should come. I’d really like it.”

  “Yeah. Well, thanks. I’d really like it too.”

  “Good.” Xander stood up. “If you need help packing up the car at any point, just yell.”

  “You’re keen. We’re not leaving until tomorrow.”

  “I know.” Xander smiled. “I just don’t want to miss the flight. New Year’s Eve in Brisbane has the edge on here, somehow.”

  Nathan caught a glimpse of Ilse passing by her office window. She gave him a little wave. “I struggle to believe that.”

  “Believe it,” Xander said, and Nathan watched the screen door slam behind him.

  He heard the thud and clip of the cricket ball as he turned back to the girls. Sophie was still fiddling with her chords, and Lo had her head down over her latest artwork.

  “Do you want to have a go on the guitar, Lo?” he asked.

  “I’m doing this.”

  Nathan moved over to look at her pictures. They had been laid out across the porch, weighed down with rocks. She had been painting the same scene over and over again, he saw now. Every one was a variation of her dad’s painting.

  “You’re trying to paint the grave?” he said.

  “I can’t get it right.”

  “They look pretty good to me.”

  Lo threw him a look that implied his artistic opinion was of questionable value, but Nathan could tell she was pleased. He wasn’t making it up, either. The images were all imitations of Cameron’s theme and were unavoidably childish, but they were strangely expressive. Where Cameron had been heavy-handed with the shadow, she had managed to capture corners of light.

  “Are you missing your dad?” he said, and Lo exchanged a glance with her sister.

  “Do you think Daddy was scared out there at the grave by himself?” Lo said, finally.

  “No,” Nathan lied. He thought for a minute. “He liked being out on the property.” More truthful. “
But I think he found some things in his life very hard.”

  The girls mulled that over.

  “I don’t like the stockman’s grave,” Sophie said, eventually. “It’s scary.”

  Nathan shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be. There are a lot of stupid stories about the stockman. None of them are true.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I went to the State Library once and looked it up.”

  He’d spent a few hours there, years ago, in Brisbane, when Xander was still young and Nathan had found it particularly hard to pass him back into Jacqui’s arms. It had been a difficult handover, and Nathan had missed the flight home. Adrift, he’d found himself walking the city streets until he’d ended up outside the library, with the sudden urge to find out more about the only person he could think of who was more alone than he was. A librarian had helped him search, and as he’d read the old newspaper article in the cool air-conditioning, surrounded by the discreet hum of company, he had felt more at peace than he had in a long time.

  “So what happened to the man?” Sophie said.

  “It was this bloke called William Carlisle, and he actually lived on this property with his wife and kids. Two boys, about seven and ten, I think.”

  “Did they live in this house?” Lo said.

  “No, it wasn’t built then. They were somewhere closer to where the grave is now. Anyway, they’d gone out riding together one day and had got off their horses to have lunch or whatever, and suddenly they realized a dust storm was coming.”

  “Oh no,” Sophie said. “I really hate them.”

  “Me, too,” Nathan said. The sight of the sky turning red as a towering wall of dust bore down. The storms engulfed everything in their path, sucking away the oxygen and filling the air with missiles. They sent the cattle stampeding, and reduced visibility to nothing.

  “You know how fast they come in,” he said. “So the stockman put his wife and the littlest kid back on their horses and told them to ride home. But the older boy had gone exploring. Over the crest or somewhere. Out of sight, anyway. The stockman went looking for him, yelling out, I guess, while the storm would have been coming closer.”