Staring, Kim said, ‘What just happened, Essie? Who’s frightening you? I want to help you—haven’t I shown that?’
There wasn’t any answer and there didn’t seem to be a choice, so Kim picked up her handbag and walked out the door.
‘You know where I am when you need me,’ she said quietly. ‘Say goodbye to Paris.’
Again, Essie didn’t answer; she just shut the door and left Kim standing outside, wondering what had terrified Essie so badly.
Chapter 21
Dave came in the front door, a spring in his step. Tonight, they didn’t have Paris for the first time in a few days. He wouldn’t have to watch what he said, or make sure he was fully dressed when he walked out in the morning. His home was his castle, and Dave liked it when it was only him and Kim there.
‘Hi, honey,’ he said, dropping a kiss on Kim’s head. She was sitting at the kitchen bench, a glass of wine in front of her, looking out the window.
‘Hi,’ she said softly, not looking over.
Dave paused. ‘Something wrong?’
‘Yeah, I think there is.’ Kim took a sip of wine and turned towards him as he took a beer from the fridge. ‘I met Essie off the bus today, like I told you I was going to,’ Kim said.
‘How is she?’
‘Shaken, scared but glad to be home. Dave,’ Kim said, leaning forward, ‘I thought she was going to talk. She told me I deserved to know the truth, but then a phone call came through and she wouldn’t. Kicked me out of the house before I could say boo!’
‘Is that right?’ Dave took the top off his beer and had a long sip. ‘How long did the phone call last?’
‘A minute. Tops.’
‘Did she say anything?’
‘Yeah, something about “I understand”, but I couldn’t tell you exactly. I wasn’t paying attention until she hung up. Do you think someone is watching her here in Barker? I mean, how could they even have known she was home? We didn’t know when she was coming until she rang this morning.’
Dave walked over to her and swung the seat around until she faced him. Brushing her hair back from her face, he looked down at her, seeing the concern in her eyes. He kissed her lips, each cheek and each eye, before resting his lips on her forehead.
‘Don’t worry. I’ve got an idea, and I’m working on it. We’ll make sure we get to the bottom of whatever’s going on.’
Kim leaned back and looked at him. ‘David Burrows, what are you doing? You’ve been told to stay away from this.’
‘I know and I can’t tell you what my plan is.’
‘Mr Mysterious.’
Dave could see that she was trying to be flippant, but his beautiful wife was worried.
‘It’s better this way, Kim. You have to trust me.’
Kim closed her eyes and shook her head, then took another sip of wine. ‘It’s a good thing I do.’
Dave sat next to her and squeezed her leg. ‘Have you seen Zara?’
‘No. Oh, that’s right!’ Kim turned to him with a look of glee in her eyes. ‘But what I did see was Jack going to talk to her late this afternoon. I was just about to go and pick up Essie and he parked in her driveway. I hightailed it back inside because I didn’t want him thinking I was watching them or anything.’
Dave grinned. ‘Nothing like a bit of gossip to get you excited.’
‘It’s not gossip—I’m hoping they’ve worked it out.’
‘Well, that’s all up to them, isn’t it? I did have a bit of a chat to Jack today, but I don’t know how much went in. Anyway, leave them to their own devices. It won’t surprise me if this takes a little bit to work out.’ He took a sip of beer. ‘I need to go and see Zara before I head off in the morning.’
‘Now who’s interfering?’ Kim raised an eyebrow at him, and he cocked one back before raising his beer in a salute to her.
It was seven in the morning when Dave’s phone beeped with a text message.
Jack said you wanted to see me. What time suits?
Getting the voice-to-text app up, Dave spoke into the phone. I can come to you in half an hour?
Okay.
Kim came out of the shower, towelling her hair dry. ‘You on the move already?’
Dave told her what he was doing, before giving her a kiss. ‘Hey, by the way—’ he patted her on the bum ‘—you’re an incredible lover,’ he whispered. ‘I never get sick of making love to you.’
Pursing her lips into a pout, Kim kissed him back. ‘That’s lucky because the feeling’s mutual.’
Dave raced through breakfast and then walked across the street to knock on Zara’s door.
He heard her footsteps on the wooden floorboards and the door creaked open. ‘Good morning,’ she said, squinting in the sunlight.
‘Good morning to you,’ Dave walked in without being invited. ‘Have you got the coffee pot on?’
‘I thought you would’ve brought one with you, since you’re so fussy about coffee.’ Zara turned away and Dave got the distinct impression she was pissed off.
‘You’ve got a machine. Thought I’d test it out.’ He leaned against the kitchen bench as Zara filled the coffee maker with water and put the milk on to froth. Dave could see she was burning to ask questions but wouldn’t give him the pleasure.
One stubborn bloke, one stubborn girl.
Silence filled the kitchen until Zara handed him a cup of coffee and stood back, her arms crossed, and looked at him.
‘So, what can I do for you?’
‘Feeling a little prickly this morning, Zara?’ Dave asked.
‘You’ve been pretty prickly with me the last few times I’ve seen you.’
‘It’s not personal.’
‘I’m sure this visit isn’t personal either.’
Dave looked at her and a thought started in the back of his mind. When did Zara become so cynical? he wondered. She always used to be smiling. Will’s death had hit her hard, of course, but there was something more.
‘Okay, okay.’ He took a sip of his coffee and put it on the bench. ‘I’ve told you from the start that when I have something for you, I’ll let you know.’
‘Yep.’
The one-word answer reminded Dave of his first wife, Melinda. Her one-word answers were sharp enough to sink a submarine. Zara’s could have too.
‘Jack would have told you we’ve been formally advised not to have anything to do with the investigation regarding Essie Carter.’
‘All Jack said was I had to come and see you.’
Nodding, Dave picked up his mug again and took another sip. ‘This is good coffee, Zara. Really good.’
‘Yep.’
Dave sighed. ‘Right. The reason he couldn’t tell you much is because I hadn’t given him the information. I’m protecting him. Like I said, we’ve been instructed not to have anything more to do with the investigation and so to look out for Jack I won’t involve him in anything further to do with Essie. If it all goes pear-shaped … well, I’m close to retirement. Jack’s not and I refuse to jeopardise his career.’
‘You’re talking in riddles.’
‘Let me ask you: Do you think Essie would have willingly received those drugs?’
Zara shrugged. ‘Who knows? Stranger things have happened.’
‘Okay, well, since now you’re the one being obtuse and I’m here with an olive branch, I’ll answer the question. No. She detested drugs. I know this for a fact. Now, again, do you think she would have willingly received drugs?’
‘No.’ Zara looked at the floor.
‘Okay, so we’re on the same page. She didn’t do it willingly. Now if I were able to, I’d do some background work on this case. Find out where Essie’s daughter is, see if she’s still on the gear, try to trace it back to why Essie received those drugs.’ Dave paused, until Zara looked back up at him. ‘But you see, I can’t. I’m off the case.’
Narrowing her eyes, Zara asked, ‘What are you involving me in? What are you involving Jack in?’
‘That’s my point—I�
�m not involving Jack in anything. If you want to participate in this it’s your choice. But I think you’ll want to.’ He paused to look at her levelly before saying deliberately, ‘If anyone finds out I’m even speaking to you about this investigation, I’ll lose my job.’
‘I don’t get it, Dave. Why are you doing this? You’re anti journalists and now you’re turning into a source?’
‘I strongly believe Essie is being manipulated, blackmailed even. As an investigative journalist you have the licence to do just that, investigate.’ He took a piece of paper from his pocket and waved it at her. ‘We only speak face to face. Don’t come into the police station, don’t ring me. Or Jack either, unless you’re discussing personal issues. As hard as it may be, maybe you and Jack need to put your relationship on hold for a bit, because the last thing we need is the AFP implying he’s involved. I know you’ll understand that.’
He was taken aback when he saw tears on Zara’s cheeks.
‘I don’t even know if we’ve got a relationship anymore.’
‘Ah.’ Dave looked at her, wanting to give her a hug, but knowing he couldn’t. ‘Are you okay, Zara? I can’t help feeling there’s something going on with you.’
‘What? Nothing. I’m fine.’ She swallowed and refocused. ‘What can you tell me? What am I looking for?’
Ah, there we have it. Back on safe ground with work. Not wanting to feel anything. I reckon I know what’s going on, he thought before answering her questions.
‘I haven’t got anything concrete, but I firmly suspect that Essie’s involvement is connected to her daughter.’
‘You alluded to that earlier. But why? You must have something to back it up.’
‘Do you remember I pulled her out of a car when she OD’d?’
Zara shook her head. ‘No, I wasn’t here then, but I’ve heard the story.’
‘Melissa was a recovering heroin addict and she came back here to escape that lifestyle. Paris was a year old. Unfortunately, one of Melissa’s previous associates followed her here and got her back on drugs.
‘The cowardly bastard didn’t even bother to call an ambo when she OD’d, he just left her there. Before I could interview her at the hospital, she discharged herself and disappeared. We don’t know where she is. I made some enquiries not long after she left, but it was as if she’d vanished off the face of the Earth. But I don’t think that’s the case. You know why?’
‘Because she’s the common thread here. She’s an addict, and there’s heroin being delivered to her mother’s place.’
By the excitement on Zara’s face, Dave knew he had her.
‘You’re spot on. Either she’s blackmailing her mum so the drugs can be collected from the house or someone is using her to manipulate Essie.’
‘You want me to do your work.’ A statement not a question. ‘You can’t do it, so you want me to.’
Dave shook his head. ‘No, Zara. I want you to do your work. You can keep doing airy-fairy stories for the Farming Telegraph or you can do some balls-to-the-wall, hard-core investigative journalism. I know that’s what you really like doing. That’s what you’re good at.’ He paused before throwing out the last bit of bait. ‘Who knows, at the end of it, there might be a really good story here. An award-winning story.’
Zara walked to the window, her arms crossed and her brow a little furrowed. Dave knew she was thinking hard. After what seemed like an eternity, she spun around on her heel and stared at him. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Just your job. Find out about Essie’s family—her daughter. I can’t do this for you, and you can’t use my name. If it gets back that I’m talking to you, I’m done. That’s why Jack can’t have any involvement. I’m not fucking around, you hear?’
‘Yeah, I understand.’ She grabbed a notepad from the bench and plucked a pen from next to the phone. ‘What’s the daughter’s name? Melissa?’
‘Melissa Carter, born 23 January 1980. Not sure where, but I think it was down south. You’ll know how to find what you need to with that.’
‘Down south as in South Australia?’
‘Yeah, but that isn’t concrete. I’m going on memory, from what Essie told me a few years ago and of course I can’t check the police records.’
‘Right.’ Zara scribbled a few more notes down and looked over at Dave. He could see her fingers were itching and suppressed a smile. This investigation was now underway.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Dave said, swallowing the last mouthful of coffee.
‘Wait, that piece of paper. What’s on it?’
‘Nothing. Just a bit of enticement.’ He grinned at her. ‘Hey, before I go, I just want to say when this is over you and Jack need to work things out. You’re good for each other.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s his call,’ Zara replied dismissively.
‘Actually, Zara, it’s mostly yours.’ He fished out a card from his wallet and handed it over. ‘Give this woman a call. I think you’ll find she can help you.’
‘A psychologist?’ She didn’t hide her contempt as she tossed the card onto the coffee table.
‘Yeah, who specialises in post-traumatic stress disorder.’ He paused. ‘When did you last sleep through the night?’
Zara looked down.
‘Yeah, thought so. Nightmares? Thinking about Will’s funeral, or when he died, all the time? Maybe the car accident when your dad was killed?’
She still didn’t answer.
‘Zara, it’s easier to get help now than it will be in four or five or even twenty years’ time. Don’t push the people who love you away because you’re struggling. Okay?’
He patted her shoulder and left the house.
Chapter 22
Zara had spent the morning googling, but she hadn’t got far. Essie had lived a quiet life in a quiet country town. She didn’t have a Facebook page or Twitter account.
The closest Essie had ever come to fame was when she’d had her photo taken for the local paper, the Barker Times—which had gone the way a lot of regional newspapers and didn’t exist anymore. On an historical website, Zara had found a copy of the Barker Times that showed a young Essie smiling into the camera, holding a bunch of prize-winning red roses at the Barker Show.
Zara had pored over the photo, trying to find some hint of who Essie had been before she’d become mother to Melissa and grandmother to Paris—but there were no clues.
Then she’d researched birth announcements for Melissa Carter. She’d come up with thirty-two hits in South Australia among the more than four hundred Australia-wide, but none of them matched the limited information that Zara had of the family. By the time she’d rubbed her tired eyes and stretched just after lunch, she knew she would have to go to the source herself—Essie—and she would have to make her approach carefully.
Now, as Zara sat in her car parked near the school, the bell sounded and the laughs and squeals from the younger children reached her above the whistle of the ever-present cold wind. She watched as the kids ran out into the school yard, excited to be free for another day. Most of them were wrapped in thick jumpers and beanies, but she noticed a few of the older boys were too cool for that and were mooching along in short-sleeved shirts, their backpacks swung over their shoulders.
Cars were lined up next to the netball courts, ahead of the buses ready to carry the farm kids home.
From her vehicle, Zara looked at each child. She knew a lot of the kids at the school, more the older ones. She had never met Paris, though; indeed she had only met Essie once. She knew her by sight, of course; knew that she arranged the flowers at the church and volunteered for Meals on Wheels during the week, but Zara and Essie had only had one conversation, many years ago. If Essie even knew who Zara was, she would be surprised.
Zara spotted Essie as the older women stepped out of her car and walked over towards the throng of kids, a large smile on her face.
A little girl with brown curly hair and a red beanie ran across calling out, ‘Granny!’
There we are, Zara thought, smiling to herself when Essie bent down to hug her granddaughter.
Zara could see that Paris talked constantly as she walked alongside her grandmother, her school bag on her shoulders almost tipping her backwards in the wind.
A couple of other mothers took one look at Essie and directed their children away from her, the distrust clear on their faces. The women were gathered in a clutch, their heads close, occasionally glancing towards Essie and shaking their heads.
Zara watched Essie’s face crumble, but then focus on Paris and pull her shoulders back and smile.
Today was only Essie’s second day home and already the community’s suspicion of her was evident. Suddenly Zara saw Dave’s point. The parents of Barker wouldn’t want Essie around if there was even a hint of her being a drug dealer. They would be frightened and keep their children away. She would be ostracised.
The older woman opened the car door and Zara watched as Paris climbed in, beaming up at Essie, still talking.
Thinking back to her own childhood, she tried to remember what she had understood at the age of six. Would she have comprehended the cruel taunts of children repeating things they’d heard their parents say about her family, or would she have been confused? Paris didn’t look either sad or confused. Just thrilled to be with her grandmother.
A friend who was a teacher had told her once she’d been in a classroom during news time and one little boy had told the class how his father had drunk ‘five beers and weed in the corner of the kitchen, like the puppy does’. The teacher had tried not to laugh, especially when she realised the dad was the local physio.
‘What’s said in the classroom, stays in the classroom,’ she’d said. ‘But you can never stop the kids from saying anything, no matter how often you tell them not to talk. They don’t have a filter!’
The full force of what could happen to Essie hit Zara and she realised that she felt the same way as Dave and Kim; she had to help her.
There was no way she could approach Essie at the school with so many eyes watching. Then and there she made a promise to Essie—one Essie would never hear. ‘I’ll follow this story to the end and clear your name. We will get the person who’s causing all this grief. They’ll be locked away, for you and for Paris.’
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