He said that he had and she promised to tell Lynsey that he’d called. Julian hung up and rang the Mindalby Police Station again. He needed to tell Derek Johnson that Allan Green had been working for him under the name of Sid Akers.
Julian checked his mirrors. A Winnebago was two hundred metres behind, lights on, travelling in the same direction. Julian pulled onto the highway and floored the ute as his call rang through to the station.
He’d checked Akers’s paperwork himself—everything from his trucker’s licence to former employment records. It had to be a comprehensive cover for it all to have checked out the way it did.
‘Mindalby Police.’
‘It’s Julian Stone. Put me through to Sergeant Johnson please. It’s urgent.’
‘He’s right here. Connecting you now.’
Darkness was approaching quickly, the last vestiges of sunset giving way to the blue-black sky above. Julian turned on his high beam, impatient for Derek Johnson to pick up. Boyd Dunbar couldn’t go back to the Carter’s house to watch Veronica. He needed the constable to stay with Lynsey for the duration of that meeting.
‘Hello, Julian.’
Julian’s shoulders sagged with relief. ‘I’ve got something. Allan Green’s been working for me—under the name Sid Akers.’
There was no response.
‘Sergeant? … Are you there? … Hello?’
Julian eased off the accelerator and glanced at his phone.
No service. Fuck! Had Derek Johnson even heard what he’d said before the call had dropped out?
Julian shot a look at his GPS. Thirty minutes from town and in a dead spot. He could turn around and go back to where he had a signal or get to town as soon as possible. His chances of being pulled over were pretty slim. There were only three cops in town and he knew exactly where two of them were.
Eyes fixed on an approaching semi, Julian stretched his neck and headed for Mindalby. Seconds later he passed a B-double, the air pressure from the truck’s slipstream buffeting the smaller ute.
He heard Willow’s voice in his head. He crossed the centre line. Must have been going at least one hundred and forty.
A chill swept over Julian and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. What exactly had he said to Akers the day he’d put him off for his dangerous driving?
You nearly ran someone off the road.
Who?
The daughter of the most powerful man in Mindalby as it turns out.
It had nothing to do with the mill.
Akers blamed Lynsey for getting him fired.
Julian inhaled sharply. Fear like he’d never known clutched at his heart. He hadn’t mentioned Lynsey’s name but there was only one powerful man in Mindalby. More importantly, there was only one Lynsey Carter.
And the man who loved her had put her directly in the path of a dangerous criminal.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lynsey stood off to one side, listening as Warren Leadbeater thanked the three lawyers for generously donating their time to answer questions from concerned members of the community. While the lawyers made their escape, Warren asked the two hundred plus crowd to remain seated and to make welcome a young woman who some of them might recognise. She’d grown up in Mindalby, and had some interesting information to impart on genetically modified seeds. Then he turned to where Lynsey was standing and beckoned to her. ‘Would you please welcome Lynsey Carter.’
Lynsey made her way to the front of the hall, nodding her thanks to the handful of people who were half-heartedly clapping. Refusing to let the lukewarm reception unsettle her, she squared her shoulders, thanked Warren for the introduction and took hold of the microphone. ‘Good evening, everyone.’
A sea of hostile faces stared back at her. Heads came together. People began whispering behind cupped hands. A few got to their feet and sauntered towards the exit.
Lynsey gripped the microphone in an effort to stop her hand from shaking and hoped her voice didn’t do the same. ‘The topic I’d like to talk about tonight is my work. My work is something that I’m passionate about. It’s also something that could benefit many, if not all, of you—the latest in genetically modified cotton seeds.’
‘Ah, this is bullshit!’ someone shouted from the back of the room. ‘As if we’d trust another Carter.’
‘She’s trying to distract us from the real issue.’
There were murmurs of agreement. A couple of people in the front row shook their heads like she didn’t have the right to speak.
‘Please, I understand you are affected by the closure, and while I can’t do anything about what’s happened, I am here to help.’
The crowd quietened a little, and Lynsey searched for a friendly face amongst the dozens of mutinous ones. Her gaze landed on Julian’s best friend, James Chaplin. His expression was encouraging, his faint nod urging her on.
‘The university lab where I work is a not-for-profit. Over the last little while, we’ve been lucky to have been involved in some of the trials of the Cottonguard 3 product. I’m sure you’ve read about it in the agricultural magazines.’
‘GM seeds are hardly news, love,’ called someone with a deep throaty voice.
There were derisive snorts and an old farmer she recognised by sight, but couldn’t place, growled, ‘I’m not staying and listening to this tripe.’ He snatched up his jacket and stomped up the centre aisle.
‘This won’t feed our children,’ someone roared from the back of the hall.
‘What’s going on, Warren?’ a woman screeched. ‘Is this another Carter con?’
‘Please! Please listen to me for a moment,’ Lynsey begged. ‘Many of you know me, but for those who don’t, I’m Mindalby born and bred. I attended the same school as your children. Year after year I witnessed the struggles facing those working on the land, more so over the last twenty years in the face of climate change. Crippling droughts, often followed by so much rain it rotted the roots of your next crop—not to mention the soil erosion and plagues of locust and aphids. It’s why I left here to become an agricultural scientist.’
‘She’s not one of us!’ Cody Nossiter’s nasally voice rang throughout the hall.
‘It’s true that I haven’t lived here for almost ten years.’ Lynsey spoke above the din of angry voices before Nossiter could stir up the crowd even more. She’d be speaking to an empty hall if she didn’t get them on her side, and fast. ‘However, I bet nearly every one of you knows my mother, Veronica. She’s outfitted your daughters for their school formals, for their weddings, dressed many of you ladies here as mothers of the bride. She’s also provided casual employment for many of your daughters.’
There were nods and murmurings of ‘nice lady’.
Buoyed by the subtle shift in mood, Lynsey went on. ‘I’d just like to say how sorry I am about what has happened at the mill. The news came as a terrible shock to both my mother and me.’
‘If you want to help, tell your father to get himself down here,’ boomed a male voice from the left side of the hall.
‘Oh, shut up for God’s sake and let her speak. She’s not her father.’ It was Mrs Tucker, her mother’s neighbour, on her feet and rebuking the man who’d called out. A few young people cheered, kids she’d known from school, though none were from her core group of friends. Like her, they’d all moved away to work in the capital cities.
‘There’s nothing I can do to change what’s happened at the Mindalby Cotton Company, but I can assist you in making certain changes that will help with the ongoing problem of pest control.’
Ignoring the sniggers that followed, she made eye contact with as many people as she could. ‘I’m assuming many of you are familiar with and have even used the two-gene product. While it’s been a huge success, it’s not been without its problems. The main thing is that it doesn’t protect against all pests so some insecticides are still needed. We also know that after a while insects have the ability to become resistant to the technology.’ She paused and looked around the hall.
A few people had taken out their mobile phones and were holding them aloft, recording her speech. Lynsey took a deep breath. ‘Cottonguard 3 is the latest weapon in the arsenal to keep cotton crops free of insect pests. The three genes work in a way that they protect each other. It’s very difficult for insects to develop a resistance.’
‘What a sales pitch!’
‘We can’t trust your father. Why should we trust you?’
A young man surged to his feet. ‘If you old codgers can’t shut the fuck up, get out now so the rest of us can hear what she has to say.’
Cheers erupted and some people even stamped their feet. Lynsey smiled her appreciation as the two heckling men who’d branded her ‘just another Carter’ stomped up the aisle and out of the hall.
Lynsey swept a hand towards the main doors. ‘If anyone else is thinking of leaving—now is probably a good time.’
A hush fell over the crowd.
‘If anyone leaves they’re an idiot.’ This time it was James Chaplin on his feet. ‘Do you really think Lynsey would have come here tonight and be standing up in front of all of us if she were in some way responsible for the mill closing?’
‘Of course not.’ It was her unknown ally who’d told the old codgers to bugger off. ‘She’s shown a lot of guts coming here. So please, Lynsey, go on.’
‘Thank you, both,’ Lynsey said, waiting for the young man to sit down. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. Everything about his body language said he was interested in Cottonguard 3.
‘The older farmers believe the drought is about to break, and as all of you know, it’s easier to grow a crop in a good year than in a dry one. I’m fully aware that this won’t help with the separate problem of the mill, but I believe that if you change over to Cottonguard 3 when next you sow, it could be a very different story in Mindalby come harvest time. A bumper crop could make up for this year’s losses and help get the town’s economy back on track when it needs it the most.’
‘I’m with her!’ A lady with tightly permed hair jumped to her feet. ‘Don’t write this town off yet. The co-op is working hard. Mindalby should not lie down.’
Applause followed the rallying cry as Lynsey stood before them like a motivational speaker. She caught Warren’s eye. He was standing by the door, his chest puffed out, a proud expression on his face. Again, Lynsey wondered at the relationship between her mother and the union rep.
‘We have to stay up with the technology,’ someone called out when the crowd had quieted.
Lynsey nodded. ‘I agree. I would hate this area to be slow in taking advantage of this new technology, especially when the lab results conducted on Australian soil are so promising. The other major benefit worth mentioning is that the government have reduced the number of hectares dedicated to refuge areas. So a larger portion of your land can be dedicated to profitable crops like chickpeas.’
Heads came together again and a buzz of conversation hummed throughout the hall. Deciding to capitalise on the more positive vibe, Lynsey pushed on. ‘There are information days scheduled throughout the state where you can learn more about this product and how to transition over. You can also get accredited on the day as well. And if you do decide to use the Cottonguard 3 product, I will personally be doing follows-ups on how you’re going, and address any concerns you might have. Many hours of research have gone into this product so rest assured my interest doesn’t end here. I will make myself available to each and every one of you.’
Warren waved, catching her eye. He was holding up the stack of leaflets she’d given him when she’d first arrived and making the ‘wrap-it-up’ signal with his free hand. Lynsey nodded. Despite her strong ties to the town, she had to trust that Warren knew these people on a much deeper level than she did. Maybe it was time to quit while she was ahead.
‘If you’d like to know more about Cottonguard 3, Mr Leadbeater is holding a bundle of my information brochures over there by the door. You’ll find my mobile phone number written in the top right-hand corner should anyone wish to speak to me privately. Be sure to pick one up on your way out.’
This set off a general scraping of chairs as though a school bell had rung for recess. Lynsey thanked everyone again and then switched off the microphone, pleased she was finishing on a high. She’d just finished sending off a Ready to go now text message to Boyd Dunbar when someone spoke her name. It was James Chaplin.
‘Hi, Chappy.’ She stepped forward and they hugged briefly. ‘Hey, thanks for the moral support.’
‘No worries. I thought you did well.’ He gazed around at the rapidly emptying hall and shook his head. ‘Pity some of them couldn’t shut their traps long enough to actually learn something.’
‘Most of them were willing to listen in the end.’ Lynsey picked up her satchel and hung the strap diagonally across her chest. ‘I hear you’re working for Julian now.’
‘Yeah. It’s not what you know, it’s who you know, right?’
‘I guess so.’ She wondered if James knew of the problems Julian had with the ethanol plant. In one way, she was grateful Julian hadn’t made it back from Sydney. He might have turned up at the hall and distracted her from her speech.
Warren joined them then. ‘All the brochures have been taken. There’s not a single one left.’
‘Oh, good on you, Warren. Let’s hope they don’t end up in the recycling bin.’
‘I’d better head off.’ Chappy lifted a hand in farewell. ‘See ya, Wazza. Nice seeing you again, Lynsey.’
‘You too.’ She gazed after Chappy. She would have liked to have had more time to chat but this was hardly the time and place for a catch-up.
‘Do you need a lift home?’ Warren asked.
‘No, I brought Mum’s car. I’m parked a couple of blocks away. Thanks for the offer though.’
‘It was hard getting a park around here earlier with this meeting on, wasn’t it?’
Lynsey nodded but didn’t mention that she’d actually needed two spots: one for her car and one for the patrol car parked right behind the Camry. She wasn’t sure whether her mother had told Warren that the police were keeping an eye on them both.
‘I’d better head off, Warren.’ With the exception of a handful of people the hall was practically empty. If she didn’t make her way out the front soon Dunbar would come looking for her.
‘Say g’day to your mum for me.’
‘I will.’
‘Fight! Fight!’ Cody Nossiter came running in from outside. ‘Come and see, it’s blocked the traffic.’
‘Get out of here, Cody, and stop stirring things up!’ Warren bellowed before turning to Lynsey. ‘I’d better get this hall locked up. The CWA let us use it free of charge. The last thing I need is for those idiots bringing it inside and damaging something. Come on, I’ll walk out the front with you.’
But when they got to the entrance, Lynsey could only stand and stare. The fight Cody had spoken of was more like a riot. At least thirty people were brawling on the street. Another hundred or so were gathered around cheering. Those who’d been trying to leave were stuck in their cars, the traffic at a standstill. In the middle of the melee, Constable Dunbar was swinging his baton in every direction trying to break it up.
‘Oh hell. Come back inside, Lynsey.’ Warren took her by the arm before closing and bolting the main doors. ‘We’ll go out the side door. Come on.’
He pulled a large set of keys from his jacket pocket and opened the door for her. ‘You make your way to the car and get on home. I’ll call the station to see what I can do to help poor Boyd.’ He switched off the lights near the side entrance. ‘These are on a one-minute timer. Let’s go.’
Lynsey hesitated. She was supposed to wait for Boyd, but he had more on his mind at the moment than tailing her home.
‘You go, Lynsey. You go.’ Warren was waving her off. ‘The last thing you need is to be caught up in the middle of this.’
Warren closed the door behind him and headed towards the front. Lynsey cut
a path across the grassy vacant lot next to the hall. On reaching the footpath she could see that local residents had been drawn from their houses. Some were standing on their front porches taking in the spectacle while others were guarding their front lawns. One man had a hose. And just like they had inside the hall, many were holding their mobile phones aloft filming the melee. Glass smashed. A woman screamed.
Lynsey hunched her shoulders, kept her head down and made for the car. Returning home without Boyd was probably safer than sticking around here. She pulled her car keys from her satchel and gripped it between the index and middle fingers of her right hand.
The night was cold, the cloud cover low, the next street light almost a block away. Head bowed against the stiff breeze Lynsey hurried along the tree-lined street, dried leaves crunching underfoot. The noise of the brawl faded and behind her the lights in the community hall went out.
Darkness enveloped her. From her satchel her mobile beeped a message. She ignored it and hurried on. This is what happened when people’s livelihoods were taken away, she decided as she almost ran along the footpath. They turned desperate and savage. Meanwhile, her father stayed holed up inside the river stone and glass mansion. He was the one who should have been here tonight. Facing the workers. Taking the heat.
A twig snapped behind her on the path.
Lynsey stopped walking, her heart pounding wildly. She turned around, hoping to see the constable. But only darkness stretched between her and the crowd gathered at the CWA hall.
Silence.
Lynsey turned, tripped on the uneven footpath and pitched forward. Hard cement grazed her hands. The satchel fell from her shoulder and landed with a heavy thud.
She scrambled upwards, key still clutched in her right hand, the car a block ahead.
Leaves crunched under heavy footsteps behind her. Louder. Closer.
Lynsey broke into a run, ducking under the low-lying branches of trees planted on the footpath. She lunged to the left, boots losing traction from the driveway’s loose gravel as she headed into the middle of the road. Once in the centre she stopped and looked back. A tall figure stood at the top of the driveway.
A Daughter’s Choice Page 16